What Would You Have Done?
by kashkow
Summary: There's more to the story than Crane is telling. Is Nelson ready to listen?


**What Would You Have Done? **

**by Kashkow1**

**Chapter 1**-

Chip Morton slipped into the darkened hospital room quietly, not wanting to disturb either of the occupants. Not that he could disturb the occupant of the bed, but the other person, the one sprawled in the chair beside the bed, needed all the rest he could get. He had been in the same chair for the last 15 hours, only leaving it to take care of nature's call. Lord knew how long before that it had been since he had slept. When Morton and Jamieson had got there he had been hollow-eyed and pale, but determined to stay. Short of wrestling him to the floor and putting him in restraints, there was no way to change his mind. No one wanted to go there, though it wasn't out of the question.

If Chip and Jamieson hadn't bullied him into it he wouldn't even have been eating. Not that the few nibbles at the sandwich that had been put in front of him constituted eating as far as Chip was concerned, but it was something. He had remained silent and grim the whole time, explaining little. Evidently he had given his report before they had arrived, and wasn't going to discuss it further with anyone. Chip wasn't sure if that was due to security concerns or just the man's natural reticence. Pushing him for answers had only gleaned more silence.

He pulled up a chair and sat, being careful to be quiet. The man in the bed did not move beyond the slow breathing that had been his only movement. There was some doubt as to if that would ever change, but they were trying to be optimistic. Chip studied the pale face, covered now with an oxygen mask, and wished the whole last two weeks had never happened. There was no going back, and there had been nothing that he could have done to prevent it, but he still felt guilty that _Seaview_ had not been there, that _he_ had not been there.

He sighed and sat back in the chair, preparing himself for another long night. Last night he, Jamie, and the chief had flown in from the _Seaview_. It had taken most of the night to reach the base from Antarctica, and the subsequent day had been stressful. The chief had fallen asleep on the couch in the waiting room, and Chip knew that Jamie had slept on the way here. He knew that he should go find a bed, but he didn't want to leave either man alone in this strange place. He would have been happier if they could have just bundled everyone up and headed back to _Seaview_, but Jaime had squashed that idea.

He looked at the man dozing in the other chair. However long he had been sleeping had not been enough to remove the lines of worry from his face. Even as Chip watched the eyes moved rapidly under the eyelids signaling a dream was underway, and from the look of it not a pleasant one. He was unsure what to do, wake up someone who desperately needed the sleep, or stop what was evidently a bad dream. In his indecision he lost the opportunity to choose as the dreamer suddenly sat up with a stifled cry.

With a quick glace at Chip he went over to the bed, and placed a gentle hand on the still wrist, as if the steady sound of the heart monitor was not enough proof that the heart still beat. After standing for a moment he went quietly into the bathroom and closed the door. Chip heard a retching sound, and knew that the sandwich hadn't stayed down. He turned his head as the door to the corridor opened and Jamieson, accompanied by a staff doctor from the hospital, entered. Jaime's eyes glanced over the various monitors, and then at the closed door. He frowned.

"No success getting him to leave?" he asked

"Haven't tried. Still haven't had a chance to look up the words he used last time I suggested he leave the room for a moment."

Jamie snorted and went to the unconscious man. He and the staff doctor, Samuels, Chip thought his name was, conferred in low tones over the still form. They didn't look up as the other man exited the bathroom and reseated himself. They continued speaking for several minutes, and then the staff doctor left. Jamieson looked over at the two men, and shook his head.

"No change. We're going to do some more labs and see if the chemicals are out of his system. We can't do anything until they are gone. Once that happens… well, we'll see."

Chip started to ask a question when the door opened again, only this time instead of a doctor it was a Lieutenant and four shore patrolmen. The patrolmen stopped just inside the door and stood at ease. The Lieutenant continued forward until he was facing the two seated men. He cast a quick glance at the occupant of the bed and Jamieson on the other side, and then focused forward. He held out a paper.

"I have orders for your arrest, Sir. Please come with us quietly, I… have orders to use force if necessary." The Lieutenant was very nervous.

Chip jumped to his feet and snatched the paper. He unfolded it and started reading. He looked at the other man, who was still seated, staring at the occupant of the bed "It says you're being charged with: Disobeying a direct order; Willful disregard of authority; Destruction of government property; Endangerment of a fellow officer; and… what the hell? This says _treason_." He looked disbelievingly at the Lieutenant, "Who issued this warrant? There must have been some mistake. I need to talk to your commanding officer…"

"No," came the soft command from the other chair. Chip turned on him.

"What do you mean 'No'? They are charging you with Treason. That means you could be shot!"

"I know what it means," the other replied calmly. He stood and went to the bed again. He laid his hand once more on the still wrist, and looked up at Jamieson who returned his look levelly. "Take care of him Jamie."

"Aye aye, Sir," Jamieson said.

After a one last squeeze of the wrist he turned and stepped toward the nearest shore patrol man and held out his wrists, holding them close together. Chip realized he was waiting for handcuffs, and that the shore patrolman was getting them out.

"You don't need…" he began

"Chip," came the quiet voice again. "Leave it alone. That's an order."

The Lieutenant stepped forward and, taking out a card, began reading it as the shore patrolmen began leading the prisoner out of the room.

"Commander Lee Benjamin Crane, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you at court martial. You have the right to an attorney…" The closing of the door cut off the words.

Chip and Jamieson stood still, shocked. Chip looked down at he paper in his hand, and then at the still form of Harriman Nelson, lying in the hospital bed.

"What the hell happened out there?" he demanded of the universe in general.

**Chapter 2**-Two weeks earlier

"Are you sure this is a good idea Admiral, both of us gone at the same time? There could be maintenance issues that need your OK…"

"And you don't feel that Chip can handle this? Maybe you should stay behind then. I can handle the assignment on my own."

"Chip can handle anything, and if the assignment could be handled by one person they wouldn't have asked for both of us. It obviously is going to involve some expertise from each of us. You aren't leaving me behind."

"Then quit trying to leave _me_ behind. Same argument." The Admiral turned to face his Captain, who had been following him down the corridor of his submarine, the_Seaview_, going toward 'officer's country', with a smile on his craggy face. His blue eyes twinkled with laughter at the younger officer's attempt to deflect him from tagging along on the ONI assignment they had been requested to undertake. Usually it was Crane alone who went on missions for the Office of Navel Intelligence, but this time Admiral Smith had requested that they both meet him at the Naval base in San Diego to be briefed on an assignment.

Crane reluctantly nodded, and then returned Nelson's smile. He was not really happy about this. The Admiral had worked for ONI himself in the past, though not for Smith the new head of operations, and had been a very good agent. That had been many years ago, and Crane felt he was way too important a figure now to be risked on a mission. The things that Nelson knew that someone would love to get a hold of were legion. He was a genius, and had created many inventions that would enhance any country's, or terrorist's, war chest. Also he had top security clearance and was privy to many codes and information that should never fall into enemy hands. Not that he had a chance of talking the Admiral out of it. When Nelson decided to do something, you might as well consider it done.

Everyone had scoffed at his submarine design, but here they walked through it. They had laughed when he presented the idea of a flying mini-sub, but that was how they were going to get from Santa Barbara to San Diego in less than half the time it would take to drive, or even faster than flying in a conventional plane. He was not someone who could be accused of not following through on a plan.

The two men separated into their cabins to pack and change. Crane, who was a Naval Reserve office had to change into his Naval uniform, instead of his Khakis. Nelson, though retired from the Navy officially, would still put on his Admiral's uniform, and would garner all of the respect and deference due to an active duty officer. They both packed casual clothes for the mission itself, though ONI would provide anything they needed.

Chip Morton, Executive Officer of the _Seaview_, was waiting at the hatch of the flying sub when they came down with their bags. Chief Sharkey took both bags from the officers, and disappeared down the hatch to stow them. He would be accompanying them to return the flying sub when they were dropped at whatever location they would be going to. Chip grinned at Lee Crane's scowl as he observed the maintenance workers tearing apart the Sonar station. He knew that the Captain hated to be away from his boat at the best of times. When strangers were tearing her apart he was even more reluctant.

The smile faded from Chip's face as he remembered just why the Captain was leaving, and this time he was taking the Admiral along for the ride. Chip hated ONI missions with a passion. They were dangerous, and more often than not his friend returned with a new hole or scar to show for it. His greatest fear was that one day he would not return at all. No amount of persuasion had kept him from accepting assignments, though both Chip and Nelson had tried. Even the call of his 'Grey Lady' was not enough to keep him onboard. And now Nelson was going too!

The three officers exchanged last minute instructions, and the two senior officers boarded the FS1. Chip dogged down the hatch, and watched through the Herculite windows as the small craft launched and headed out of the docking bay where Seaview rode at rest. He knew that Lee would take her out to the open sea and then get her up to speed for take-off. He loved to fly that machine.

He sighed, and turned back to supervise the work on the Sonar. It was going to be a long week.

**Chapter 3**-the present

Lee Crane sat on the bunk in the cold cell with his back against the concrete wall and his knees drawn up. He was dressed in the dull green prison overalls that he had been given after a way too thorough body search. Evidently they knew of his past, and were taking no chances at his trying to escape. They had no way of knowing that he had no such plan.

He crossed his arms on his knees, and rested his chin on top of them, staring blankly ahead at the wall. He had choose this, he couldn't reverse course now. It meant too much. He preyed that it wouldn't be for nothing. But even if _he_ never knew, it would still be worth it.

Lee Crane had been through a lot in his life he would like to forget. He had grown up hard, fast, and without the benefit of family for much of that time, not that family had done him much good when he _had_ finally got some. It had been short and not too pleasant on the whole. Before that, he had been on the streets. He had seen things by the time he was seven that most people would hopefully never see in a lifetime. He could do Leavenworth standing on his head. The question was would he have the opportunity? If the brass pushed hard enough he could end up dead. That too had been taken into consideration, and he was ready to take the full consequences if necessary.

He turned his eyes toward the door as it opened and a young man, in the uniform of a Lieutenant j.g., entered the room. He had a briefcase, and was holding a file. The court appointed lawyer. He could have been greener, Crane supposed, but it would have been hard. After all you had to have graduated high school before the Navy would accept you under most circumstances, and supposedly you had to pass the bar before you became a lawyer. Maybe the guy had been a child prodigy. He surveyed the man bleakly for a moment, and then returned to his perusal of the wall. All the better for his case he mused. He should have no problem stonewalling this guy.

The Lieutenant stood for a moment waiting to be recognized beyond the chill glance he had gotten when he entered. After several minutes had passed he realized that there was not going to be any further movement from the man on the bunk. He put his briefcase down, and opened the file. He cleared his throat. No response.

"Uh… I'm Jim Hazel. I've been appointed by the court to represent you in your Article 32 hearing, and in your court martial should it come to that. I have reviewed the arrest warrants, and I need to get your side of the story so that I can present it at the hearing tomorrow."

"No."

"No? No what. No you don't want me to represent you? They told me you didn't have any other legal advisor. If there has been some mistake…" Sharp golden eyes turned to him, and he felt like he was back in Officer Training School again, under the eagle eye of the staff sergeant. He gulped.

"Just no. No hearing, no court martial. Plead me guilty on all charges. Let me know the decision."

"Let you…. You don't understand. You'll be there yourself, you'll hear…"

"I don't want to go. You're my representative. You go. Plead it out." The eyes turned back to the wall. The rest of his body hadn't moved, and he could have been a statue for all he seemed to care about the subject matter they were discussing.

"Commander, one of the charges against you is Treason. Do you understand that due to the recent circumstances you can be given the death penalty for that? You can't just plead guilty. I..."

"Plead guilty, no contest, whatever. It doesn't matter. Just get it over with."

"But… but you must have something to say on your own behalf, something that can repudiate the charges. It's not as hopeless as it may seem at first. From reading this, the main problem seems to be that no one really knows what happened, and so they threw the whole book at you to kind of cover any contingencies. The brass hates it when they don't have information. You can…"

"No."

"Commander, I don't understand. You're not going to do anything to refute the charges?"

"No, I'm not." Very decisive. "Now if you don't mind. I think we have covered everything you need." The sharp eyes glanced at the door. A not too subtle hint.

"Yes, Sir. I guess we have." He picked up his briefcase and backed up until his back hit the door. He thumped the case against it, calling for the guard, never taking his eyes from the still figure.

"And forget about the insanity plea you're contemplating right now. I can pass any sanity test they throw at me. Just plead it out the way I told you," the man said, not bothering to look at him.

The Lieutenant started as the other man seemed to read his mind. He had been thinking that very thing. In fact he had been framing the request for a psychiatric evaluation as he waited. He gulped again. "A…Aye Aye Sir. Understood."

The door opened and he slipped out. As the guard closed and locked the door, he sighed in relief. So that was the famous Lee Crane. _Wow_!

**Chapter 4**- Two weeks earlier

Both Crane and Nelson rose to their feet as Admiral Smith, head of ONI, entered the room. Crane straightened to attention, while Nelson stood out of custom. He was not particularly fond of Smith, and Lee had expressed his own dislike, though he had done so only to Nelson in private. Having butted heads with him often about Crane's ONI assignment schedule had not endeared Nelson to Smith either. Nelson felt that the other man was careless of his operatives, and focused only on results. To Smith the ends justified any means, and any sacrifice. Nelson just didn't want Crane to be one of those sacrifices. His own ONI work had mostly been done years earlier under a different commander, and with a lot more planning and support. He had agreed to this mission because he knew if he hadn't they would have found someone else to go with Crane, and that person might not be able to back up the younger man as he could.

Nelson knew Crane was a good operative, better than he, Nelson, had ever been, but good operatives needed back up too. Too often he and the rest of the _Seaview_crew had been forced to wait as the Captain risked his life, wondering. Now he had the opportunity to make sure that the back up was there, so he swallowed his dislike of Smith, as Lee did, and had agreed to the assignment.

Smith answered Crane's salute and shook hands with Nelson. Since the dislike was mutual it wasn't a warm handshake. He gestured for them to return to their seats, and sat down behind the desk.

"I'm glad you could get here so quickly. The mission is urgent, and highly sensitive." He slid folders to each man. "Let's begin by going over where you'll need to go."

They studied the maps, discussing plans for getting into the area, and covers for them once they were there. It went without saying that they needed to stay undetected. Once that was set Smith turned to the next phase, what they were there for.

"If you'll turn to the next page you'll see a picture of Josef Varga. He's a Hungarian national, but working freelance. He's acknowledged as one of the most brilliant men in his field, and he's built a weapon. We need to know what the weapon is and how to defend against it. This facility is only one of six production areas. We don't know where the others are, but we have found Varga and he is working here. We can't destroy them all, we don't even know if we want to destroy this one. It may be better to leave it in place as long as we know the proper counter measures. If they don't know we know, all the better.

"So what we want is for you two to get inside, and get a look at this weapon. Get copies of the plans. Harry, you're the front man. You can talk any game they want, physics, biological, chemical. You get in as a scientist, and then you open the door for Crane. If you can get him in legitimately that's good, but one way or the other we need the plans."

Crane suppressed a comment about Nelson being the front man, but he knew that he didn't have any choice. While he had a working knowledge of many sciences due to his years of working with Nelson, he wasn't anywhere near proficient enough to pose as a scientist. He would rather have broke in and taken his chances alone, but he wasn't even going to try to change the Admiral's mind, either Admiral. It wasn't a good idea to question orders to _two_ admirals at the same time. Tended to cut one's career short.

"You'll be going in separately. Nelson, you'll be going in on regular airlines. We have a passport and work history done for you. You'll be Harol Ivanov, from Moscow. Your Russian is pretty good if I recall. You'll need a beard, but we'll take care of that before you go. We'll fly you in right before your flight. You'll be met in Turkmenistan by one of our operatives, he'll get situated in some rooms, and make sure that they know that you're there." Smith turned his attention to Crane.

"Commander, you'll go in covertly, across the border. Blend in with the locals. We'll give you several contacts. I assume your Afghani is up to it."

"Yes sir. I was in-country four months ago, and didn't have any problem then."

Smith nodded. "If you can, see if you can get hired on at the facility. Then when Nelson finds out what is going on you'll be close to hand, and you won't have to worry about infiltration. Otherwise it's up to you two as long as we get the plans." Smith stood, as did the other two men. "Ed will see that you get where you need to be, and get the papers and information you'll need," he said, meaning his aide Ed Andrews.

Crane had dealt with Andrews before, and nodded. "Sir, what about extraction?" he asked.

"When you've got what we need, let your contact know. We'll arrange for a plausible exit strategy for Nelson, and you, Commander, will carry the information out the same way you got in."

Crane scowled, "That's nasty country Sir. I would think it would be better for the Admiral to take the information."

"Too chancy. He will no doubt be searched at least once on his way out, either at the facility or at the airports. We can't take the chance of losing the information."

Nelson smiled to himself as he noticed that the idea of losing _him_ didn't seem to bother Smith. He wasn't too happy about Lee having to enter and leave Turkmenistan across the border. It was a lawless, dangerous land, and he would have a long way to go before he met with friendly occupation forces. However, Lee had obviously been there before... 4 months ago, huh? Nelson remembered Crane being gone then, and he hadn't said anything about where he had been. They were going to have to have a discussion about that. If Smith was sending Lee into Afghanistan, Nelson wanted to know about it.

They took their leave of Smith who was on the phone before they were out of the room. Ed Andrews met them outside the door, and Nelson had no chance to speak with Crane before they were hustled off to different rooms to get information, makeup, and clothing. Andrews had followed along with Nelson, either in deference to his rank, or the powers that be, read Smith, felt that Nelson couldn't be trusted to know what he needed to do to get ready to go. Nelson put up with Andrews fawning obsequiousness for almost an hour before he told the man to get lost. After a startled protest the man disappeared. The Admiral was glad that none of _his_ officers were that way. He could just see Lee Crane simpering around, hanging on his every word! That would have gotten them nowhere fast.

Nelson had almost 45 minutes before his plane for Moscow left. He now sported a trim beard that matched his hair color exactly. He though he looked rather dashing. He was supposed to let his own beard just grow underneath it, and leave the appliance in place. He suspected it would itch like hell after a few days. The sacrifices one made for one's country.

He decided to find Crane. He was sure that the younger officer would not leave without checking in first if at all possible, but he wasn't going to take the chance of missing him. He wondered down the corridor, finally finding a room that also opened out onto the flight line. A group of men milled about in the room, sorting piles of equipment into backpacks. They were all dressed in what Nelson perceived as Afghani native dress. They were all dark complexioned and wore some type of native headgear, a special-force team, no doubt, going in to search out cells of insurgents. Nelson scanned the group, looking for Crane, but the costumes made it difficult. He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to look into the golden eyes of his Captain, peering at him from the dark stubbled face of an Afghan rebel.

"Hello Admiral. You look good in that beard. You'd knock them dead at the Charity ball. Maybe they'll let you keep that."

"I'd rather walk through Afghanistan with you," Nelson said, rolling his eyes.

Crane laughed, as he knew that Nelson hated the fancy dress balls that Edith insisted on dragging him to each year. He had tried just sending a check, a rather large one, but she had insisted that he had to make an appearance. Last year he had strongly suggested that his senior officers also attend, for which Lee and Chip were still trying to find a way to pay him back. This year they were scheduled to be at sea, and Lee was sure that Nelson had looked hard to find some mission at that time.

Crane nodded at the other men. "I'm going out with them in 15 minutes. I was coming to find you. I'm all ready to go." He nodded again at a small ragged looking backpack that lay against the wall. Nelson looked it over and then back at Crane.

"How far do you have to travel?"

Crane shrugged. "These guys are going to Meymaneh, about 30 miles south of the border. I'll start from there."

"Do you have transport?"

"It's catch as catch can I guess." He smiled and his teeth -though darkened by chemicals so they didn't look too clean- were still a contrast to his now darker skin. "Think of me when you're eating your in-flight meal in first class, will you."

Nelson grinned, and patted Crane on the back. "I'll do that." He became serious. "Take care of yourself, Lee. Remember that while the mission is important, so is your life."

Crane nodded, and looked Nelson in the eye. "You take care too Sir. I'm not the only one going into dangerous territory. Yours just _looks_ more civilized, but the animals are the same."

Nelson nodded in understanding. If he were discovered he would not die quickly or easily. "We'll be meeting after I get established. My contact will know your contact I guess. I'm beginning to remember why I didn't like this business."

Crane smiled and shrugged again. "Part of the game. Can't blame them for being secretive, it's how they stay alive."

Nelson frowned, and glanced around at the men who were now putting on their packs and preparing to leave the room. No one was paying any attention to the two men in the corner. "Is that how you see this Lee, a game?"

Crane's face took on a thoughtful look. "In a way I think it is. A sort of chess game with lots of players, you're never really sure who your opponent is at any given time, or what his objective might be. In this case I'm a knight, and you're a bishop, and we're trying to capture the king, the plans to the new weapon. Next week it'll be all new players, all new men, and a new objective, or not."

Nelson stood considering the words for a moment. He had never really looked at the intelligence community in that way before. "This must explain why you're able to beat me at chess on a regular basis, you keep changing your manner of play, and I can't get a grip on your methods. You're simply playing the game as you've seen the world play it."

Crane grinned, "Or maybe I'm just good."

"No," Nelson said seriously, "I'm sure that's not it." He kept his face straight for a moment, and then smiled at Lee's false hurt look. They both turned as a man appeared in the doorway to the flight line and announced it was time to load. The other men began filing out, and Nelson turned back to find Crane picking up his backpack. He reached out and grasped Crane's shoulder, squeezing gently. "I meant it Lee, I expect you to arrive in Jaranbad in one piece. Don't take unnecessary chances."

"Understood, Sir," Crane replied. He reached up and patted Nelson's shoulder. He swung his backpack onto his shoulder, and headed for the door. He looked back once, smiling, and waved a hand, then he was gone.

Nelson walked to the door, and watched as the huge C5 taxied and prepared for take off. After a few moments the plane's engines roared to full power, and the impossibly large plane surged down the runway and into the sky. Nelson watched until it was a small dot in the western sky, and then disappeared. He turned back to prepare for his own flight, it was going to be a long and lonely trip.

**Chapter 5**

Chip Morton was having a very frustrating chat with the guard at the brig. He had requested access to Crane, and had been told that the prisoner was being held incommunicado. Exactly who had ordered that was something of a mystery, but the guard had been adamant in his refusal to allow Morton in. The now steaming Lt. Commander had firmly suggested that the guard find out who had ordered it, and contact them to allow Chip in.

Morton had watched as a very young Lieutenant jg wearing the insignia of the J.A.G. corps had gone into the complex. He shifted in the hard chair and went back to contemplating the last two weeks. Sharkey had returned after only a few hours, saying that Nelson and Crane had been using other transport to get them wherever it was they were off to. Repairs had gone well, with only the small frustrations of dealing with any mechanical object, even one as advanced as the _Seaview_. That had been the first week. Then the call had come for emergency relief from a lab located on the edge of the Antarctic continent. Three days of flank speed, three days of damn cold work, and then the call to report to Pearl Harbor, ASAP and bring Jamieson. It hadn't been a good week so far, and things were not looking up.

He looked up as the j.g. came back out of the metal door. He was pale, and agitated. He went directly to a phone located across the room, and dialed.

"Give me Commander Parker, this is Lt Hazel." The young man waited nervously for the connection to be made. Chip wasn't really trying to listen to the call, but it was a small room, and you couldn't help overhearing.

"Sir," the Lieutenant said as his party came on the line, "It's Hazel. I'm at the brig, and I'm not sure what to do." He listened for a moment. "No Sir, I _have_ seen the prisoner, that's the problem." More listening.

"He says he wants to plead guilty, Sir, and that he doesn't even want to go to the hearing." Chip could hear the squawking from the phone as the Commander reacted in surprise.

"I know Sir. I explained that. He doesn't care about the possible death penalty. He just sat there looking at me and told me to plead it out."

At the mention of the death penalty Chip sat up. How many people could there be in the brig at one time who where facing a death penalty. He focused on the conversation.

"I don't think it was me, Sir. He didn't even want my help I don't think. He just said he was aware of the penalties and that I should plead it out."

Another pause. "No, Sir. He wouldn't discuss anything. I told him that the brass wanted information on what happened, and they might lessen the charges once they got what they wanted, but he wouldn't talk." A pause. "You can try, Sir, but frankly I don't think he'll talk if he doesn't want to."

Chip suppressed a snort. The kid had figured out Lee very quickly. He might just make a good lawyer yet. The humor fled quickly though as he contemplated what he had heard. Lee was pleading guilty to all charges. That could mean that he could be shot.

Morton felt the blood drain from his face. He couldn't imagine that. Lee Crane was one of the most devoted and honorable men he knew. Lee would _never_ commit treason, not even to save his own life. He paused at that thought. Then something went through him, and he felt sick. Crane wouldn't do it to save his own life, but would he do it to save Nelson's life? Morton was one of the few people who understood just what Nelson was to Crane. The depth of devotion that Lee felt might even lead him to do something that he would never do at any other time. Not that Morton would think less of him for it, but it could mean that his friend was going to die. He closed his eyes, and willed the contents of his stomach to remain where they were.

"Sir are you ok?" It was the guard, who had finally gotten off the phone. He had moved to stand in front of Morton, who had not even seen him. He realized that the young lawyer had also finished his call and left.

Morton swallowed. "Yes. Thank you, I'm fine. What did you find out?"

"The orders came from Admiral Smith, Sir, personally I'm told. Sorry."

Morton gritted his teeth. Smith was not going to be an easy nut to crack. If Nelson was awake….but then if Nelson were awake maybe the whole thing would not be going on. He needed some pull. Admiral style pull, and there was only one other person he could think to contact. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the base operator. He got the number for a particular office at COMSUBPAC and dialed it.

"COMSUBPAC, Admiral Stark's office."

"Hello, this is Lt Commander Morton from _Seaview_. I need to speak to the Admiral, it's urgent."

"I'll see if he's available, Sir. Please hold."

Morton listened through the silence, and then heard Jiggs Stark's voice boom over the line.

"Morton? I thought _Seaview_ was in the Antarctic, why are you calling me on a land line?"

"I'm not on _Seaview_, Sir. I'm here at Pearl. Admiral Nelson and Captain Crane are here too. They were on an ONI mission and something went wrong. Admiral Nelson is in the infirmary and Crane is in the brig charged with treason, and disobeying an order." Might as well get the whole thing out quickly.

There was a long silence from the other end of the line. Then Stark spoke. "Are you drunk out of your mind Mister! You're trying to tell me that one of my top Captains is in my Brig and one of my best friends is in my infirmary on _my_ base and no one has bothered to drop a word? How long have they been here?"

"We got word on _Seaview_ yesterday morning. I flew up with Jamieson on FS1. They arrested Lee this morning."

"Under whose authority!" Stark roared.

"Admiral Smith, from ONI."

"That _S.O.B_! Not on _my_ base he doesn't, not without clearing it with me first. Where are you at Mister?"

"I'm at the brig, Sir. They have orders that Lee is to be held incommunicado except for his lawyer, who just left. I heard him tell his commanding office that Lee had refused to talk, and that he was pleading guilty to all charges."

"What the hell is going on? I'll meet you over at the infirmary in five minutes. What floor is Harry on?"

"Third floor, Sir."

"Fine. We'll get to the bottom of this damn quick, Mister." He hung up.

Chip closed his cell, and took a long look at the door leading to the cells. He had set the wheels in motion, and he hoped that it would do some good. He headed out to the infirmary.

**Chapter 6**-

Jamieson was straightening up from listening to Nelson's heart with his stethoscope when Jiggs Stark entered the room at full speed. He took one look at Nelson's pale face and looked at Jamieson.

"What the hell happened?"

Jamieson shook his head. "He was exposed to a series of chemicals. Some we can't even identify. He's in a coma, has been since Captain Crane brought him into Meymaneh. The flight surgeon says he never regained consciousness. We've been flushing his system, and he is showing some signs of improvement, but since we don't know what these chemicals were meant to do, we don't know what kind of damage they may have done."

"What does Crane say about what happened?"

"He… doesn't say much. He won't answer any questions beyond saying that the people that did this had the Admiral for over four hours, and that he got him out. Beyond that we have nothing."

"Well, he'll damn well talk to me," Stark said.

"I really doubt that, Sir," Chip Morton said from the doorway. "If he's willing to plead guilty to Treason, I don't think your ordering him to talk is going to do it." Chip paused, and looked at the still form in the bed, "I think only one person could make him talk."

"Commander Crane won't be talking to anyone, except me and my people," another voice said, and everyone turned to see Admiral Smith standing in the doorway.

Stark bristled like an angry dog, "Just what the hell are you doing giving orders on my base without my authorization? I didn't even know Harry was here until Morton called, not that I knew _he_ was here either. And on top of that you've ordered _my_ brig to hold someone incommunicado without _my_ authorization. Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I _think_ I'm…" Smith started hotly.

"Gentlemen!" Jamieson said in a soft roar that got both of the Admirals' attention. Chip had to duck his head to hide a smile as Jamieson turned his most displeased look on the two men. Boy had he seen _that_ look in the past, aimed at himself and, more often, Crane. "I have a patient that doesn't need you yelling over his bed, and this is a hospital so neither does any other patient. Perhaps you could take it outside the hospital zone?"

Both Admirals looked abashed, and went out of the room, muttering to each other in low, heated tones. Chip doubted they would make it to the elevator without shouting, but he suspected that no one else would have Jamie's moxie to tell them to shut up and get out.

Jamie came around the bed, and stood near Chip. "What's this about pleading guilty to Treason?"

"The JAG lawyer made a call back to his office after he came out of the cells. He was telling his commanding officer that his client wanted him to plead guilty to all charges, in spite of the fact that the death penalty was involved. How many people can there be in the brig that are facing a death penalty? To top it off he was saying how the client wouldn't even tell him, the lawyer, what had happened, and he didn't think that was going to change."

"That sounds like Lee Crane in a stubborn mood. But why? Why would he possibly want to do this? He would no more commit Treason than he would intentionally damage the _Seaview_. It's just not in him."

"That's why I need to get in there. To find out what's going on in that mind of his. Usually I know what he's thinking, and what he'd do in any given situation, but this isn't one of those times." Morton glanced around as if to be sure that there was no one else listening. There might be one reason he'd commit Treason Jamie, maybe." He looked toward Nelson.

Jaime followed his line of sight, and his line of thinking, and shook his head. "No, not even for him. It would be an empty gesture and Lee would know that. Nelson would hate it, and would not be able to live with knowing what had been done in his name. Lee Crane would never force that guilt on someone else, not as good as he is with doing guilt himself."

Chip thought about it, and then nodded in agreement. "You're right. He wouldn't. So there has to be another reason. Maybe it appears he committed treason but really didn't, but he won't open his stubborn mouth to refute the charges."

"I can see him keeping quiet to protect someone else, someone he cared about, regardless of the consequences to himself. That would be classic Crane, always ready to sacrifice for the good of the cause, or the person," Jaime opined

"Yes, I hadn't thought about that. If he had to do something to protect the Admiral, something that could be seen as treason, he'd do it, in an instant. He wouldn't even think of it in terms of being a sacrifice. It would just be the way it had to be as far as he was concerned." Chip agreed, nodding. "But now that we suspect why, how do we help him? If that's the case nothing we say or do will change his mind, I'm not even sure if the Admiral could do it. If he could."

"I think there's a good chance he may be coming around," Jaime said, and went back to the bedside. He picked up a clipboard he had left lying there, and flipped through the papers. "His latest labs came back. His system has flushed the foreign chemicals, and everything is returning to normal. His CAT scan was normal, and the brain wave activity is normal for someone in a deep sleep. I think he's just healing now, and will be waking up soon."

"I hope you're right Jaime, and I hope it helps Lee, because short of breaking him out of the brig and taking to the high seas as a pirate I don't think there's much we can do for him."

**Chapter 7**-

Lee Crane sat on the bunk in the same position that he had been in since his lawyer left. He really couldn't have told anyone what he was thinking, had there been anyone to talk to that was. He had puzzled on that for awhile, but then had realized that this was the fine hand of Smith. He was being held incommunicado. Evidently if he wasn't going to talk to Smith, then Smith would see that he didn't talk to anyone. Crane knew that Chip would have been here by now if possible, and possibly Jaime too. It was probably better this way. His friends didn't need the stigma of being associated with him. He was prepared for what he faced, but he wasn't taking anyone down with him.

He slowly moved out of the position he had been in for the last several hours, and lay down on the bunk. He winced as his muscles protested the move, after so long being still. He also realized that his feet were hurting again. He had washed them well, and doused them with antiseptic. He had simply put aside the pain from the broken blisters that covered most of the bottom of both feet and up his heels. The footwear he had traded for had been too small, and he hadn't had the luxury of stopping to take care of his feet as he should have. He had been able to stay off them for the most part since returning, but they didn't seem to be getting any better. He hadn't felt it necessary to mention it to anyone, for instance Jaime.

Jamieson had more important things to do. Like save Nelson's life. Lord knows Crane hadn't done much to help with that. He had been pretty much useless when you got right down to it. He closed his eyes, only to open them again almost immediately when images began streaming through his mind. Images he preferred to forget. This was why he hadn't been able to sleep for any time at a stretch. The dreams came almost immediately. Living through it once had been enough, he didn't need a repeat in full Technicolor.

He sat up again, returning his back to the wall, and letting his legs dangle over the side. The blood seemed to pound in the bottom of his feet. Great. He brought them back up on the bunk, and closed his eyes again, concentrating on thinking of nothing. He had had training in meditation, maybe that would keep the dreams at bay. He hardly realized it as he sank into a deep slumber, and returned to the high desert of Afghanistan, as he made his way toward the border with Turkmenistan. The terror had not yet happened, and he was happy with the exercise, and was walking along at a good pace, enjoying the warmth of the winter sun on his face. In this dream place he was happy, and unaware of what was to come. He sighed and slid deeper into the dream.

He had managed to hitch a ride to a few miles short of the border. The old truck had been on its last leg, and the ride in the back with eight other people, two goats and a basket of chickens had not been comfortable, but it was better than the near thirty-mile hike he would have faced without it. He had waved off his benefactors and had started for a small pass, used by many of the former Mujahadeen in the era of the Soviet occupation. As far as intelligence knew it was still open and being used by locals to pass unnoticed across the border. A few hours more and Crane had been almost ten miles into Turkmenistan, and could see his goal in the distance. He hadn't been able to get a ride, but he was making good time, and he should be able to meet his contact tonight. Then he would make contact with Nelson.

He was anxious that the Admiral was there without him, but hoped that the contacts that were going to get him into the labs were reliable. By tomorrow Nelson should be in, and Crane would be in the city and working to get in as a casual laborer. With any luck, they would be able to get in, get the information and get out quickly. The longer they had to say, the more chance of being found out. Some slip-up would catch you eventually it was a fact of life when working undercover.

Several hours later found him in a coffee house, hunched over a cup of bitter black coffee that would have done Cookie's sludge proud. How they had managed to stuff that much coffee flavor into such a small cup was always a puzzle to Crane. It wasn't like they had espresso machines here. He looked up as a shadow fell over his table. A man, dressed similarly to him, was standing over him. The man waved to the other tables filled with other men and asked if he could share Crane's table. He offered to purchase another coffee for the privilege. This being the first code phrase, Crane agreed. After several minutes of silence the man spoke again.

"I have not seen you here before, but you are familiar. Are you related to…" and so it had begun, codes and counter codes, leading to a faked joyous family reunion, and an announcement to the crowd of the advent of a nephew.

After several cups of coffee that guaranteed Crane would not be sleeping that night, they left, ostensibly for his new-found uncle, Mussef Raj's, home. Instead they traveled across town to the edges of a fenced area. The area was lit up with spotlights, in sharp contrast to the dark town that had not even a streetlight. Guards could be seen patrolling the area, armed with what looked like Kalisnakov rifles. After a good look at the layout they left, this time actually going to Raj's home.

"The other went in this morning, rumor has it that there is now a new scientist. I will take you in tomorrow, as my nephew. There are openings, not many wish to work in the labs. There are rumors of people disappearing, of people being used as experiments. Many of those there are from other towns and even other countries. You will blend in well with them. The cleaners have the most freedom. I will try to get you hired for that. Tomorrow I will meet with my contact and arrange for you to meet with the other outside of the lab. You will be the son of my brother, Tamal Raj. You will also be Tamal Raj, the eldest son. "

"The 'other's' name is Nelson. Thanks for making all the arrangements. You've done a lot of work."

Mussef smiled broadly, pleased with the appreciation. "I do not like that they use our town to make weapons. We must live together in peace, or we will die together in war. This is not what I want for my children." He smiled at his family who were huddled around the wood stove in the corner of the room opposite where the two men sat. Three boys and two girls were sneaking shy glances at the stranger in their midst. For the safety of his family, as least for as much safety as they could expect, he had continued the charade, introducing Crane as his nephew from Afghanistan. Raj's wife, a plump woman, had glanced at him with suspicion in her eyes, but had said nothing, and herded the children away across the room.

Raj showed him a room where he could sleep and keep his gear. Crane settled into the pallet on the floor, grateful to be off his feet. It had been a long day that had begun very early with the drop off by the C5. He was puzzled though, because the room was _hot_. Some part of his lucid sleeping mind remembered that it had been cold there. Even in the house, out of the cold winter wind, it had been cool. But here, in the dream, he was burning hot. It didn't make any sense.

In the way of dreams suddenly he was in a small office with Raj, standing before a fat, sweaty man. Raj was explaining that his nephew had come to town looking for work, and was willing to do anything to make some money to send home. He was very good at cleaning, had worked in a hospital in Meymaneh now destroyed by the American bombs. Surely there was an opening that needed to be filled...

His dream self blinked and…

He was now in a corridor swabbing the floor with a mop. He had to hide his amusement when he thought about how his crew would feel seeing their Captain swabbing the deck like the lowliest rating. He knew Chip would have a field day. He had been hired, and after spending several hours at 'training' he had been turned loose with a mop and bucket, and pointed in a direction. The seemingly endless corridors were brightly lit and busy. No one seemed to be paying much attention to the man mopping the floor, and that suited Crane just fine. He had seen the large ring of keys that hung from a hook in the maintenance manager's office, and had already made some plans.

He had seen Nelson, dressed in the ubiquitous white lab coat, walking with two other men, also in white coats. He had not looked directly at Crane, but he had caught a quick glance of the blue eyes turned his way as they passed, and thought he saw a small smile twitch the lips under the beard, so much for no one knowing about the swabbing. He let his body go automatically about the business of cleaning as his mind took in all the information he would need to get what they needed.

After a long day of mopping, so much so that his shoulders ached from the unfamiliar motion, he returned to Raj's house, and shared a simple meal with the family. In his dream he was once again shocked at how poor the family seemed to be. He had thought that as an informant Raj might be getting some money or supplies from his intelligence contacts, but there seemed to be nothing. They obviously couldn't just start spending large amounts of cash, but some comforts, or at least some necessities, would not have raised suspicions. He determined that what money he had with him would remain with the family. He had quite a bit of local currency on him, and he would have to just 'forget' it when he left. As he ate the thick stew and flat bread that was the family's dinner he watched as Raj interacted with his children. Poor, but happy in their family life. Crane felt a tinge of jealousy. He had never known the love of a true father, at least not until… He squashed the thought, even in the dream he didn't want to think about it. It had led to too much pain. He was seated furthest from the small stove, but he noticed that the room was very hot, almost stifling. He took off his coat, and then the vest he wore underneath. He noticed that everyone else was still wearing all the wrappings that they usually wore in the house, and didn't seem to be noticing the heat. He reached for the glass of water that was before him, raising it to his lips. He gasped as it touched his lips. He dipped a finger in the water. It was warm, almost hot. He looked at the other glasses, the glasses he had seen filled from the same pitcher as his. As he watched one of the girls lifted a glass, and took several swallows. She showed no sign of noticing that the water was hot. He shook his head, not understanding. He reached for a piece of bread on his plate, only to drop it when it burned his hand. He put his finger to his mouth, sucking at the burn. What the hell was going on!

He stood and moved to the door leading outside. The family seemed to be ignoring him completely, and no one reacted as he flung open the door, waiting for the cold night air to wash over him, but instead a burning hot wind rushed in and he felt his clothes ignite in the inferno, his flesh followed. He screamed…

Suddenly he was awake, listening to the echo of his own scream off the walls of the cell. He sat up, swallowing down the bile that had risen in his throat. He was out of the dream, but was still burning hot. He ran his hand over his forehead, and felt the sweat. He was running a fever.

He must not have cleaned his feet well enough. Another sin of omission to go against him. Would he never pay back the penance he was charged? He had thought the trek across the freezing cold desert had been enough, or having to listen, unable to help, as… He shook the thoughts away. He climbed off the bunk, wincing as his feet hit the floor. Oh yeah, they were definately not well. He stumbled to the small sink that was in the corner of the cell, and bathed his face in the cool water.

Since no towel had been supplied, he dried his face on the sleeve of the jumpsuit, and returned to the bunk. Well, there was another pleasant attempt at sleep. He was thinking of giving it up altogether. He had just settled down when the door opened, and Admiral Smith, Admiral Stark, Chip Morton, and Will Jamieson walked in. The cell was pretty crowded. He felt like an exhibit in a zoo. He stared back at them all, unmoving. He wasn't coming to attention. If they were trying him for Treason, failure to salute a superior wasn't even on the radar screen.

Typically, it was Smith who barged ahead. He had been shocked, as he was sure the rest had been, at Crane's appearance. The man was always slim, but now he was positively skinny. He hadn't known anyone could drop weight that fast. He was also incredibly pale except for two spots of color on his cheeks. There was sweat on his brow, and the golden eyes seemed brighter than usual. A small bit of concern made its way though the anger, but he shook it away.

"Well Mister, what do you have to say for yourself?" he demanded.

"Sir, I have nothing to say, Sir," came the reply. Crane had turned his eyes from the group, after a quick but telling glance at Morton and Jamieson, and was once again studying the wall. It was hard finding a piece he could see with all the people in the cell, but he managed.

"Now look Crane…" Smith started, only to be interrupted by Jamieson, who had not been wasting the time since he got into the cell. He was not pleased but what he saw.

"I think everyone needs to leave for a few minutes while I give Commander Crane a physical exam." He emphasized the rank. He was determined that Lee Crane would be treated as befit his rank, and be given the privileges and rights owing to any prisoner. He was also determined that he would find out what was causing the fever that was obviously burning through the quiet man, and what was causing the look of pain in those bright eyes.

Smith started to speak, but Stark, who had been silent until now, watching the young Commander, tugged him by the arm and shook his head. He hadn't been pleased by what he saw. He had been against Harry choosing Crane for Captain of the _Seaview_ in the beginning, but over the years had come to realize that Crane was a perfect fit for _Seaview_, and for Harry. His friend had been alone a long time, no family to speak of except Edith, who was always away at school, or later off gadding about the world. Harry's dedication to the Navy, to saving the oceans, to saving mankind from its own foolishness had meant that he missed out on a lot in life, and one of those things was a family of his own.

Stark wouldn't trade his family for anything, his wife, sons, grandchildren, and the life they had built together. He couldn't deny his friend, one of his best friends, the same feelings, however inappropriate the Navy might think it may be. So far the feelings that Nelson had for his young captain had not interfered in any way with their missions, and Stark had come to realize that the younger man was never going to take advantage of Harry's partiality. In fact he excelled at things outside of Harry's control, take this ONI thing for instance.

Now he was looking at an obviously ill man. Crane was at least twenty pounds lighter than the last time he had seen him. He was pale under his normally dark complexion, and he was obviously in the grip of a fever. The worst thing was his eyes. The normally sharp gaze was bright with fever yes, but there was a darkness there as well. A pain that Stark had seen in other men, men who had seen something, done something that had wounded their very soul. What had happened on this mission that brought one man back unconscious, and the other in such pain? He was going to get to the bottom of this, for Harry's sake, and for the sake of this young man he had come to respect.

He and Smith left the room after summing the guard. Morton required a push from the doctor before he followed, and soon the door closed behind them. Jamieson turned to Crane and moved to stand between the young Captain and the wall. The golden eyes stared through him for a moment, then after a blink focused on his face.

"Gee Jaime, chasing off Admirals is becoming quite the hobby with you. You won't make any brownie points that way."

Jaime snorted, and set his bag on the bed next to Crane. He knew his Captain, and more often than not the return from an ONI mission required some medical intervention. Nelson's more serious problems had sidetracked him for the last day, but now it was Crane's turn. "All right, you want to tell me what's going on with you, or do I need to find it for myself?" Easy or hard, it was all the same. He _would_ get to the bottom of it.

Crane smiled gently, then swung his feet up on the bunk. He reached down and very slowly took off the soft, lace-less shoes and the socks that he had been given when he was brought to the brig. He winced as he had to peel the socks off the blistered flesh on his feet.

Jamieson took one look at the feet and swore. Well that explained why the man hadn't been pacing in Nelson's room earlier. It was a habit the younger man had picked up from Nelson, tension led to endless pacing. It had tweaked something in the back of Jaime's mind when Crane had been so still before, but he had been occupied with other things. Now he knew.

"What the hell happened?"

Crane shrugged. "Shoes too small, ground too hard, no first aid kit, no other form of transport. Pick one or all of the above." He seemed unconcerned about it.

Jaime looked up from the feet, to study the face of the man on the bunk. He had seen this man in too many life threatening situations to think that he was afraid. He wasn't angry, sad or even resigned. He just seemed to be completely unconcerned. That deeply worried Jaime. He sat down on the bunk, and opened his bag. He began taking out the things he would need to clean and disinfect the feet. The last thing he took out was a vial of liquid and a hypodermic. He caught the scowl on Crane's face, before it disappeared again behind the mask of indifference, but it made him feel a little better. Crane hated injections, at least he was acting normal in that respect.

Jamieson prepared the injection and administered the shot. He then started on the cleaning. There was no discussion, no banter as he was used to with his most difficult patient. He knew the process hurt, there was no preventing that, but he was as gentle as possible. He finished with the process, and bandaged both feet.

"You'll need to stay off them for at least a few days. I'll be back tomorrow to check to make sure that the infection is fading. I'll leave some medication with the guards to be taken with your meals… which you _will_ eat, or I will have you on an IV in the prison ward."

There was a brief flare of the old Crane combativeness in the bright eyes, but it faded quickly, and Crane nodded. Jaime sighed. He thought he had him there for a moment. He closed his bag, and looked up into Lee's eyes.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, and it becomes confidential under Doctor/Patient regulations. If there is anything…"

"No Jamie. You've done enough. It won't be good for you to be around me. You need to distance yourself. Tell Chip, too. Being my… friend is not good for anyone. I won't take you down with me."

"If we abandon you in your hour of need, we aren't worth much as friends are we? I think I'm offended that you would think that I would choose to ignore a friend in need. Chip would be too."

A small smile crossed Crane's face. "Thanks Jaime."

Jamieson patted Crane's knee and rose to his feet. He moved to the door and knocked for the guard. As the door swung open, Crane spoke again.

"Jaime. How's… How's the Admiral?" It was asked hesitantly, and quietly.

Jamieson turned back "The chemicals are finally out of his system. The EEG is showing him in a deep sleep now. I think he'll be waking up soon. There's no sign of damage to the brain itself, but we'll have to wait until he wakes to find out what effect the chemicals had."

Crane sighed, and closed his eyes. He left them closed for a moment, and then opened them to smile at Jaime. "Thanks."

Jamieson nodded and went out the door. Crane sank back on the bunk. Whatever Jamie had given him was dulling the pain from his feet, and he thought it felt a little cooler. The best thing about the whole visit had been the last bit of information. At least he hadn't failed in that part of the mission.

**Chapter 8**-

Jamieson found the men he had chased out of the cell in the lobby of the brig building. Morton practically leaped to his feet and was in front of the doctor in a few bounds.

"How is he? What the hell was going on? Did he say anything about what happened?"

Jamie held up a hand. "One question at a time!" as he spoke, the two Admirals who had been whispering to each other, noticed that he had come in, and came over to join them.

"Well?" Stark asked, moments before Smith said the same thing.

Jamieson sighed. "Commander Crane has a fever due to infections on both of his feet caused by some excessive blistering. Evidently his feet were not treated previously, and the infection had set in. I've given him a shot for the infection and fever, cleaned the area, and will leave some medication for him to take with his meals. Along that line he's lost over twenty pounds and I'd be willing to bet hasn't had a good meal in over a week. I've told him that if he doesn't eat the meal I'm going to arrange to send him that I'll put him in the prison ward with an I.V. I'll be monitoring the fever and infection over the next day or so. I'll keep you posted. Sirs," he added the last almost as an afterthought. Chip shot him a warning glance. It wasn't good policy to piss off Admirals, even if you weren't in their chain of command.

Stark cleared his throat, and hid a smile. Damn but Harry's boys were a snarky lot when they wanted to be. Just like their commanding officer. "So we got one officer unconscious and another with a fever, and no answers. Lovely."

"Well, I am going to have answers fever or no," Smith said, and started to the door. Jamie intercepted him, and shook his head. "About now the sedative should be kicking in. Even if he were inclined to speak, which I don't believe he is, you wouldn't get anything out of him."

Smith harrumphed, and glared at the doctor, who was unmoved. "Fine. But I'll only be put off so long. This is a matter of national security, and I don't care if he's_inclined_ to talk or not, he _will_ talk. Tomorrow, doctor, or I will get another physician that understands the requirements, do _you_ understand."

"I understand, Sir," Jamieson said, unmoved by the threat.

Smith took on last glare at everyone in the room, "Keep me notified on Nelson's condition too. I want to know the minute he's able to talk, and I mean that Doctor. You mess with me and you won't be able to hand out aspirin on a tugboat." On that note he slammed out of the room.

Stark snorted and looked at the two _Seaview_ men. "Well, having effectively stymied the investigation for the night, I feel the need for a drink and some food. My treat at the officer's club, gentlemen, you can fill me in on what you _do_ know. That way I'll be a little less in the dark come tomorrow."

He herded them out in front of him, pausing to take one last considering look at the door to the cells. He sighed, tomorrow wasn't going to be pretty.

**Chapter 9**-

Harry Nelson knew he was asleep, and he wanted to wake up. He wanted to wake up now! He had been trying forever it seemed. He could hear people moving and speaking around him, but he couldn't understand what they were saying. He thought he recognized the voices several times, but he could not wake up to see if he was correct. He had heard Lee almost exclusively at first, then after what seemed ages, strange voices and a continuing drone. After another age he heard Jamieson, Morton, and other strange voices. After trying and failing to reach full consciousness he had turned his thoughts to _why_ he was floating in this place. Unfortunately that was also an avenue that had yielded only frustration. He couldn't remember. He remembered leaving _Seaview_. Speaking with Smith and flying to Russia were also clear in his mind. He started to lose it there.

He remembered reaching the town after an incredibly cold and uncomfortable trip from the capital. He remembered meeting his contact, a small nervous man by the name of Sayed Nuri. He had been placed in what turned out to be the most expensive hotel in the town. Much to his amusement that seemed to mean that the bathroom facilities were inside rather than out, though only one to a floor. He had settled in, unpacking his small suitcase with the carefully purchased clothing. Any investigation of his belongings would show a series of purchases from various Russian businesses, and the clothes all showed various states of wear and tear. He had sent a letter of introduction up to the labs, detailing his past, fake, qualifications and a request for a meeting. He had then sat back to wait. It had given him time to worry about Crane coming in across the high, cold desert. He knew Lee was more than capable of taking care of himself, but Mother Nature was a formidable and merciless adversary when she wished to be.

He remembered that he had been relieved when Nuri had told him that Lee had arrived. He also remembered the interview at the lab, and getting the job. He had been given a lab of his own, and several assistants. They were checking his references he knew. He was sure that they would be quite impressed by the checkered past that ONI had given him He was given a project that he was sure was designed to test his abilities as a scientist. He had dealt with it almost immediately, not even needing to spend time on it. By the time he had seen Lee Crane mopping the floor in the hallway he had been upgraded to full access, and was being briefed by Varga himself on a portion of the project.

He recalled in his darkness the amusement he had felt at seeing Lee swabbing the deck, and had let the other man see his smile. He had seen a flash in the golden eyes, and had to fight to keep a laugh from breaking out. He was going to get a lot of mileage out of _that_ secret he knew. Chip Morton would give a lot to know about his Captain and best friend swabbing the deck. He could hear the comments now. He might even be able to coerce -blackmail was such an ugly word- Lee into taking some time off with him up at his cabin. Yes, that would be it, a vow of silence in exchange for a week at the cabin, fishing. No calls back to the Institute, no discussions of refits, just fishing and relaxation.

Things got very foggy after that. He remembered seeing some plans, hearing what they were trying to accomplish, but the details escaped him. Then he got a sudden flash of entering his lab to find several men waiting for him, one face was very familiar, Nuri! There had been pistols and a hypodermic and then… nothing. Until he found himself drifting in this darkness, trying to awaken, there was nothing else. He had been betrayed!

In his quiet darkness suddenly he felt his heart rate accelerate. _Lee_! What had happened to Lee? Had he been captured too? He had to know. He had to wake up, **now**. He put all of his energy into forcing his eyes open, and finally succeeded in getting them open a small amount. He found himself looking into the face of Will Jamieson, who smiled as he blinked several times. Another man, a stranger to Nelson, was standing on the other side of the bed, and was also grinning.

"Welcome back Admiral," Jaime said.

Nelson tried to speak, but his voice came out as a croak, and he realized that his throat was incredibly sore.

Jaime offered a straw sticking out from a plastic cup. "You were intubated earlier. Your throat is going to be sore for a while."

Nelson sucked down some water, and the chill liquid felt heavenly on his throat. He took several sips and then laid his head back. He tried again to speak. "Where's Lee?" he croaked, barely recognizable.

He was tired, but he couldn't miss the flash of something that went through Jamie's eyes. His concern rose. It was not lessened when the doctor spoke.

"He's… not available right now, Admiral. Now, we need to do a few tests…" He broke off as Nelson's hand grabbed his arm, and squeezed with surprising strength.

"_Where_ is Lee?" There was no compromise in the question.

Jamie sighed and exchanged glances with the other man, who by his lab coat Nelson figured to be another doctor.

"He's here on the base, Admiral. He just can't be here right now. Once you're feeling better we'll see about getting him here…"

"No, I want him here, _now_."

"Admiral..."

"Now, Jaime!" He couldn't say why, but he had to see Crane. Had to know that he was ok. Had to know what had happened.

Jamieson exchanged glances again with the other doctor, and then looked down for a few moments. When he raised his eyes again to look at Nelson, there was something in his eyes that made Nelson's chest contract with misgiving.

"Commander Crane has been arrested and is currently in the brig."

"Arrested! On what charge?" He started to push himself up, only to have both doctors reach out and push him down. It didn't take much effort on their part, since he found himself very weak.

"There were several. Disobedience, willful disregard, and… treason."

Nelson could only lie there staring at Jamieson. Treason? They had charged Lee Crane with treason? What had happened after he had been captured? He searched his mind again, but only scattered pictures like still frames of a film, ran through his mind, making no sense. He closed his eyes, concentrating. He felt a hand on his arm, and opened his eyes.

"There's nothing you can do for him now. You have to concentrate on getting well and getting out of here. We have to get these tests done to ascertain if there was any damage from the chemical soup that you were calling blood when you got here."

"Speaking of that," Nelson said, trying to calm himself, "Where exactly is _here_, and how did I get here?"

"You're at the Pearl Harbor medical facility. You were flown in from Afghanistan about two days ago. All we know is that the Commander showed up at the base in Meymaneh with you in tow. You were unconscious at the time, and stayed that way. All that he would say was that you had been drugged and unconscious for most of a week. He said he didn't know what you had been given."

"Did he say what happened? How we got there?"

Jaime shook his head. "He's… not talking, Admiral, about anything, to anyone." Jamieson stopped, pondering how much information to give his patient. There would be hell to pay no matter when Nelson heard the news, and it might as well be now with two physicians available rather than later. "He told his lawyer to plead guilty to all counts, and has refused to even make an appearance at the Article 32 hearing."

Nelson stared at him for a moment, not believing what he heard. Then he put his head back on the pillow, and raised his unencumbered hand to rub at his forehead. "This isn't making any sense. I feel like I went to sleep and have woken up in some weird parallel universe."

"How do you feel in general Admiral?"

"Crappy!" the Admiral snapped, not bothering to open the eyes he had closed. He heard a slight snort from Jaime.

"Could you be a bit more specific?" the doctor asked.

"I have a headache. My left arm feels like a pincushion, and I'm hungry as hell. My left shoulder hurts over the shoulder blade, and my face feels like its been peeled."

"Well, I can explain the last three easily. You have a hell of a bruise on your left shoulder blade, but there is no break. Whatever you had been given they used the left arm, so we just hooked up there too. Figured you would want one arm whole and working. You won't feel like moving the left much anyway. As to your face, we took off that beard you had on. It was rather tenacious."

"I don't think I'm sorry I slept through that. What time is it anyway, and what day?"

"About two in the morning, and its two weeks to the day since you left the _Seaview_ in Santa Barbara."

Two weeks. He had lost most of a week. According to Jaime he had been here for two days, and it must have taken most of another day to fly here from Afghanistan. He remembered four days after they had left San Diego. That left a week unaccounted for. Lee had to know what had happened. Why was he not talking, why was he pleading guilty to a charge that could mean his death, and what had happened after the hypodermic was pressed to his arm? Only questions and no answers. While he was contemplating this he fell into a natural sleep.

Jamieson and the other doctor conferred for a moment, and then Dr Samuels left to see if he could get a few more hours sleep before he had rounds. Jamieson sat down in a chair, and watched the Admiral sleep. He was glad that his employer and friend was going to recover, but he was afraid that it wasn't going to be that easy._Something_ had Lee Crane in full sacrificial mode. Whatever had happened out there, wherever they had been, wasn't pleasant. It was clear from his demeanor that the Admiral didn't remember much, if anything, about what had been done to him, that left Crane, the immovable object.

Jamieson sat back in the chair, and got comfortable. He wouldn't call Chip, Stark and Smith until later in the morning. Everyone needed some sleep. He would also have to go see Crane, and tell him the good news. Maybe that would loosen the stubborn man's tongue.

**Chapter 10**-

Crane had finally gotten some much needed sleep, though the dreams had persisted, and he was feeling much cooler than he had the day before. He had managed to eat some of the meal that the guard had brought, but he suspected it wouldn't be enough to satisfy Jaime or Chip. He just couldn't force any more down. His feet were still painful, but not as much so as before. It would take time to heal he knew. He laughed, it seemed that he was going to have plenty of time, or maybe he wouldn't have to worry about healing at all. "Great," he thought, "gallows humor. That's what this situation was lacking."

He had not changed his mind about his course. It was the only possible choice he could make. The only thing he could give the man who had given him so much. He wished he had a watch, he couldn't tell what time it was, or even if it were day or night. He had a sense that it was daytime, but didn't know for sure.

He looked toward the door as he heard the lock opening. He was not surprised to see Jamieson come in bearing a tray along with his bag. He swung his legs over the side of the bunk, scooting back so that his feet didn't touch the floor. Jamieson handed him the tray, and sat down beside him on the bunk. They didn't speak as Crane worked his way through the scrambled eggs and toast that he found under the metal lid. He drank the coffee almost reverently. He had missed the sludge that often brewed in the big coffee pot on the _Seaview_. In fact he missed everything about his 'Grey Lady'.

He finished the meal, and took the pills that the doctor handled him, washing them down with the last of the coffee. After he finished Jamieson put the tray off to the side, and proceeded to look at his feet. He cleaned them again, and put on more salve. He replaced the binding, and sat down again next to Crane.

"The Admiral woke up this morning, about five hours ago as a matter of fact. He's lucid, and mostly none the worse for wear. He's got a headache and he's bruised but other than that I think he'll be fine. He's already carping about being in bed, and I think he'll be up on his feet by tonight." Jamieson watched as a light came into the golden eyes, and a smile lit up the face of his young captain.

"I'm glad Jaime. I knew you could bring him around if anyone could." There was no doubting the sincerity in the words.

"Only doing my job, Skipper. He wants to see you." Crane's head was shaking before Jamie even finished.

"No. You need to find a way to keep him away. He can't do anything for me. He needs to get well, and get back to the _Seaview_. It's where he belongs."

"It's where _you_ belong. Why don't we see about getting you _both_ back there," Jamie ventured. Startled golden eyes flew to his face. A look of longing passed through the eyes, then disappeared and the dark head shook again.

"No. Someone has to pay the piper and it won't be him. I called the tune, I didn't complete the mission, and I disregarded direct orders. Maybe that is treason, I don't know. But I won't debate the point, not with them, and not with you Jaime."

"Lee..."

"NO!" It was quiet and final.

Jamie nodded and stood. Closing his bag. He collected the tray and went to knock on the door. "I'll be back tonight. I'd be prepared for more visitors if I were you."

Crane looked at the door for a few moments after it closed, and then pulled up his legs and went back to his contemplation of the cell wall. It was comforting in a way, not having to think of the things going on around him. He had heard some time ago of a man, imprisoned in Germany during World War 2, who had built, in his mind, a clock. He had worked through every cog, every gear, until he had built the clock. It had kept him from going mad. Maybe Crane needed something like that to pass the time. He could build the perfect submarine. Not that _Seaview_ wasn't perfect the way she was, but there were some things that he would wish to add on, that would have proven handy over the years. Take that diving bell retrieval system for instance…

**Chapter 11**-

It was just after noon before Jamieson let anyone else into Nelson's room. Two Admirals and a Lt. Commander had haunted the corridors and waiting room outside until they received the go-ahead from the doctors. Stark and Smith had waited in opposite corners, leading Morton to believe that words had been exchanged regarding this matter. Since there were still no visitors to Crane in the brig, Stark had obviously lost that round, but he found out that Jamie had been in to see Lee earlier. He hadn't been able to talk with Jaime about his friend's condition, but comforted himself in the thought that had anything been wrong Jaime would have let him know.

He was looking through an old issue of National Geographic when Jamieson came around the corner, and told them that Nelson was ready for visitors. He went over Nelson's general prognosis as they walked back to his room. They filed in to find Nelson propped up in the bed, watching the door.

"Harry," Stark burst out, "good to see you awake. Thought you were going to goldbrick it for another day or so, just to get some rest."

Nelson smiled, and reached out a hand to accept Stark's handshake. "Some of us have work to do Jiggs, we don't get to lay around on the beach and pretend to run things while our aide takes care of everything."

Stark snorted. "Last time I was on the beach I got a sunburn, and the aide they assigned me couldn't find his…"

"Enough with the old home week," Smith broke in. "Nelson, I want to know what happened on the mission. The rest of you will have to leave. This is classified."

Stark was opening his mouth to speak when Nelson beat him to it. "They stay. Nothing I have to say is classified above their clearance level. Besides that, I don't really have any pertinent information. I can't remember much at all."

"That's not acceptable Nelson. A very important mission has been completely screwed up. You and Crane were given precise orders, and as far as we can tell it all went to hell. I got intelligence reports last night that the facility you infiltrated was completely destroyed, and Varga was found with his neck snapped. A lot of people want explanations, not least of which are people in the White House."

"I don't care who wants to know what!" Nelson snapped at him. "It doesn't change anything. I remember getting there. I remember getting hired at the lab, seeing Lee there at the facility, and after that things get confused. I remember going into the lab I had been assigned and there were men there with guns. My contact, Nuri was there with them. He had turned me in for money. I remember being glad that he hadn't met Lee yet, though he had set up a meet for that night. I remember thinking that Lee would be walking into a trap. Then they gave me a shot of something and I only get flashes of things after that." Nelson was frowning, his eyes far away.

"People asking questions, talking, threatening. Then for a time there's only sounds. I remember hearing Lee talking to me, then a time that had to be the plane trip here. I don't know how long I was in their hands or what I might have told them. Jamie says my blood was filled with strange chemicals. That was Varga's project by the way, chemical warfare. I can remember seeing plans, for a delivery system I think. I can't quite focus in on it so far, but I'm working on it. I think with a little guided self hypnosis I can retrieve it."

"Not now Admiral. You need to be resting," Jamieson said only to be overridden by Smith.

"The hell with rest. He can do that later. We need the information more than ever since the one facility we knew about for sure has been destroyed." He paced about the room, thinking. "Crane is going to have to talk. He's got to know what went on. He must have destroyed the facility and killed Varga when he broke you out. If he just went in and freed you then he _did_ willfully disregard an order, since I told him we needed that information, and didn't want them to know we knew about it."

"And the Treason? Where exactly did that come in, hmm?" Stark asked from the chair he had sat in at Nelson's beside.

"We don't know how he freed Nelson. And we don't have the information we wanted. The enemy knows that we are on to their production, and they'll be even harder to track. That's aiding and abetting the enemy in my books, Treason."

"Oh that's stretching it a bit Smith! Even you can't be so eager to punish someone who looks to have saved his partner and destroyed a potentially harmful weapon by branding him as a traitor. The kid got his commanding officer out of there, the steps he had to take to do it were justified as far as I'm concerned…"

Nelson had been listening to Starks rebuttal of Smith's charges when something he said caught at a memory that was lurking at the edges of his mind. He was in a cell, bare except for a bunk against the wall. He heard a scrabbling above his head, and looked up twelve feet or so to see a face at the small vent grill. _Lee_!

"Admiral, are you ok?" he asked.

"I'm dizzy from whatever they gave me earlier, but not too bad. However did you get in there?" The vent plate did not look very big, and Nelson didn't think even the Captain's slim frame would have fit through it.

"The duct is larger than the opening. Not quite as spacious as the ones in _Seaview_, but I can get around. I was down the hall when they took you out of your lab. I saw them bring you down here. It's taken me over an hour to find you!"

"You have to get out of here Lee! Nuri, my contact, was the one that turned me over to them. He'll be after you and your contact next. Do you know where they have the plans yet?"

"Yes, I found Varga's safe when I was cleaning his office. It's not too complicated. I can get you out of here and then…"

Nelson was shaking his head. "No. You will get the plans, now, and get out. If they don't know who you are now, they will soon. You have to complete the mission."

"I'm not leaving you here."

"Yes, you are. We need to have the plans, Lee. This is not something we can afford to have come against us unopposed. You need to get the plans, photograph them and get out of here. They'll probably think you just found out I was captured and took off with out doing anything. I'll be sure to lay a false trail for them. I can…"

"No."

"Lee…"

"No, I am not leaving you here."

"Lee, listen to me. We are on a mission. An important mission that can save a lot of lives. I assume you would have already gotten me out if that were possible instead of creeping around in the air ducts. This is more important than any one person. You have to complete the mission. You _will_ complete the mission as ordered. That is a direct order."

"NO! I can do both, get the plans, and…"

"Lee if you attempt to rescue me then they'll know you were here in the facility. And if you fail, then no information will get out. It has to be done. Now go."

"Admiral…"

"You have your orders Commander. Follow them."

There was silence from above. Then he heard the faint sounds of Crane crawling away in the duct. He sat down on the bunk, then lay down and flung an arm over his eyes. He was sorry that his last words to Lee were possibly going to be an order he didn't want to follow. He knew that Lee would be incensed with him for ordering him to go, but it had to be done. The one person who he really felt would miss him the most, not for what he could create, or what he could donate, or what his mind could do for them, was going to be left alive with anger and guilt as his legacy. He regretted that more than the pain he suspected his captors were going to inflict on him.

He sat up as someone opened the door to the cell. It proved to be two men with guns and they ordered him out of the room. He remembered stepping out of the cell, and starting down the corridor then there was nothing…

He became aware of someone calling his name. He blinked and the corridor faded to reveal Jaime looking down at him in concern. He had Nelson's wrist in his hand, checking his pulse.

"What was that, Admiral?" he asked.

"Flashback I think," Nelson said reaching up to wipe away the sweat that had formed on his brow.

"What about, Harry?" Stark asked. "Did you remember something?"

Nelson delayed answering. He wasn't sure that he wanted to share the content of the flashback. Smith already had enough charges against Lee, including disobeying a direct order. If Nelson mentioned this, he would possibly end up testifying _against_ Lee. But he was an officer, and was obligated to provide the information on the mission. He didn't want to join Crane in the brig, that wouldn't help either one of them.

"I was remembering when I woke up from the shot they had given me. I was in a cell, and Lee was up in the ducting…" He stopped as he heard Chip, who had been quiet up till now snort in amusement. He shared a smile with the younger officer. Lee did have a tendency to end up in the ductwork wherever he went. "There was a small vent, too small to climb through, near the top of the wall, and we spoke." He went on to describe the conversation, pausing before he spoke of his last order.

"There's something more isn't there? What are you not saying?" Smith said.

"I… ordered him to complete the mission as planned."

Smith snorted, "Well at least I'm not the only Admiral he decided to ignore. He obviously didn't feel like obeying your orders either. I'll have his rank and his ass for this."

"You'll do no such thing! As a matter of fact I want those charges dropped, all of them," Nelson roared

"I don't think so. You can refuse to press charges if you want, but he was in _my_ chain of command on this mission, and I can press any charges I want. Up to and including the treason charge. According to your own story he had the opportunity and the time to complete the mission as ordered, both by you and me, and he obviously chose to do something else."

"That something else was rescuing Harry here. I don't think you should penalize the man for that," Stark said reasonably, causing Nelson to look at him in surprise. "Don't be too surprised Harry. I've grown rather fond of you over the years, and I don't have so many friends that I can afford to lose one. Also… I kinda like Crane. He's may not run a Navy ship, but he's the best at what he does."

"Thanks Jiggs."

"Sentiment aside," Smith said, sneering, "the man is responsible for leaving us with no defense against a weapon that we can't even identify now. Unless you can get some memory back, Nelson."

"I'm trying Smith, but it comes at its own rate, and I'm not even sure that it'll ever all come back. As I said it's some form of Chemical warfare, but I really can't remember anything beyond that. Maybe Varga's handlers will think we took the plans when we left, and that we are aware of the other production facilities. They may abandon it all together. A little disinformation perhaps, in the right ears…"

"A little disinformation isn't going to get your golden boy off the hook, Nelson. We're already trying to clean up this mess as best we can, but it doesn't change any facts about what happened. In fact, speaking of that, we don't know what you told them when you were questioned, for all we know you spilled everything, and the whole thing is messed up beyond all fixing."

"Now wait one damn minute…" Jiggs Stark was mostly out of his chair when Nelson waved him back.

"He's right Jiggs. We don't know, _I_ don't know, what I might have said. I could be guilty of treason if you wanted to look at it in that light."

"Don't be stupid Harry, that's not treason. Nothing said under torture can be construed as treason. Nor was anything that Crane might have done getting you out of there. _Some_ people just got a bee up their butt because they didn't get what they wanted. The place was producing a weapon of mass destruction. It was destroyed. We found that one, and we'll find the others. It's not like it's the first time ONI had something not go as planned. Let's quit pointing fingers and get on with it, huh?" Stark said.

Chip, listening from the corner, silently applauded the statement, and exchanged glances with Jamieson. It looked as if they had Stark on their side. Now if they could only get Crane to cooperate in his own defense.

Nelson looked at Jaime. "I need to see Lee. When can I get out of here?"

"I don't think that's a very good idea Admiral," Jamieson said. He wasn't best pleased about these flashbacks. They could be damaging, and he didn't want Nelson stressed right now.

"Besides which," Morton said, "Lee's on restricted visitors. Nobody but Jaime, as his physician, and his JAG assigned lawyer are being allowed in."

"What jackass decided on _that_?"

Smith bristled. "The mission was classified, Nelson. You may be willing to allow anyone to hear the details, but I'm following procedure. Crane is being held incommunicado pending his Article 32 hearing. That is the regulation when dealing with operatives with his clearance level."

"Well it doesn't apply to _me_ I assume?" Nelson asked.

Smith turned an unbecoming shade of purple. "Look here Nelson, Stark may let you and your people run roughshod over the rules but it's not going to work with me. The restrictions will remain in place, and that includes you."

"Will they?" Nelson said smoothly. "We'll see about that." He waved Morton toward the phone. "Chip, get the White House. Tell whomever you get that I want to speak with the President _now_. I don't care what he's doing, or where he's at, they can transfer the call."

Chip went to the phone and started dialing. Figured he better start with Admiral Stark's office, they would know what numbers to call.

"That's fine Nelson. You go over my head. Until then, he's under my control and I'll do with him as I please." He shifted his gaze to Jamieson. "You, doctor, can consider yourself discharged from the Commander's case. Another physician will be assigned." He stalked out of the room. If the door hadn't been on a pneumatic arm he would have slammed it.

Nelson was looking at Jamieson. "You didn't say anything about visiting Lee as a doctor. What's wrong with him?" The tone brooked no refusal.

"He had severe blistering on both feet. They had become infected and he was running a fever. Of course he didn't bother to mention it to anyone. I cleaned up the feet and gave him a shot of antibiotics. When I saw him this morning the fever was down and the feet were looking better."

"There's nothing else? He's all right otherwise?" Nelson asked anxiously.

"Other than being his own stubborn self, yes, I think he'll be fine. Knowing him, I'm sure he's not telling me about assorted bruises and cuts, but that's S.O.P. I'm sure whoever Admiral Smith gets to fill in will be able to keep track of the fever and make sure the feet are kept clean." Jamieson looked concerned even as he spoke. He didn't really like the idea of another doctor going in to see Crane. The man didn't play well with medical personnel, and that might effect how his injuries were treated. He needed to find out who was assigned and brief them.

"Don't worry Jaime. Once I speak with the President you'll be the one to treat Lee. It shouldn't take long," Nelson said, and then frowned as Chip hung up the phone without passing it to him.

"No go Admiral. The President is in a summit meeting in England. They won't put through anyone right now. I spoke with an aide, and impressed upon him that the President needed to call you ASAP, and he promised to pass it on. The best I could do."

Nelson scowled in frustration. He wasn't used to being stymied in this way. He had gotten his own way throughout most his life, and here he was now, at a most important moment, and he couldn't get anywhere. He pounded his fist against the bed. "Damn it."

Stark laughed, drawing Nelson's disgruntled gaze. "Harry, Harry. You've been in the Navy long enough to know it's always 'hurry up and wait'. Tell you what; Smith can't keep me out of the brig regardless of regulations. I'll go see Crane, tell him you're ok, and that we're working to get him out. See if I can get him to talk to me."

"He doesn't like you Jiggs, you said nasty things about his crew and how his boat was ran. You know that. He'd rather cut out his tongue."

Stark laughed again. "I like a man that can hold a grudge for something worthwhile, not petty things like Smith. I'll talk him around Harry. You always said I could talk the hind leg off a mule if I tried. From all reports, your boy qualifies."

Nelson smiled, amused at the thought of Stark and Crane in a small room together." All right, just remember, he thinks he's going to be convicted of treason. Striking a superior officer might not seem like such a bad thing. Especially if it's you."

Everyone laughed, and then Nelson motioned Jiggs to pull his chair closer. He had a few messages for Crane.

**Chapter 12**-

Lee Crane was lying on the bunk staring at the ceiling. Or rather his eyes were locked on the ceiling, but his mind was far away. He was in the middle of overhauling the circuit boards in the reactor room. He had worked out a way to refit the circuits so that there would be an increase in reaction time between power adjustments of 10 to 15%. He was getting ready to start on the next panel when the door to his cell opened. He turned his head lazily, expecting Jaime, though it seemed early for the doctor. He had expected him to show up with his dinner to make sure he ate. But it wasn't the doctor who came through the door. It was Admiral Smith. Crane turned his eyes back to the ceiling. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

"It is customary to stand at attention when a superior officer enter the room, Crane," Smith growled. A guard carried a chair into the cell, and Smith sat down on it, setting his briefcase at his side.

Crane didn't react. He was trying to get back to that panel. Maybe if he rerouted that one set of relays…

"I'm not cutting you slack like Nelson and Stark do, Crane. You will talk, one way or the other. I understand that you've instructed your lawyer to plead guilty to the charges against you. I'm not going to make any promises, but if you stop this foolishness now, and tell me what happened, I will drop the Treason charge. You'll still serve time for the other charges, but you won't face the death penalty or life imprisonment."

The panel was coming along well. He had moved the one relay, and it looked good on the second. At this rate he could finish this panel and move on to the last one before dinner.

"Look Crane," Smith said angrily. "you have to tell us what went on. Nelson doesn't remember. If you're trying to protect him, because he cracked under torture, it's not necessary. He won't be held accountable. Why should you pay for his weakness?"

Damn but that last relay didn't want to go. He was going to have to reroute this one different from the others. He tweaked the wire bundle to the left, and after a bit of experimentation got it to go where he wanted it to. That worked. He stared on the last relay, expecting to have to tweak that one a little to, but he was still making good progress.

Smith stared at the still figure on the bunk. If it wasn't for the slow rise and fall of his chest, he would have suspected that Crane was dead. His eyes were open, and staring at the ceiling, but there was no other indication of life. Frustrated he rose to his feet. One quick glance at the door assured him that the guard was outside. He grabbed a double handful of Crane's shirt, and dragged him upright. The younger officer blinked at him in surprise, but didn't speak. He simply stood there, face to face with Smith, and looked at him. In the back of his mind, he had to hand it to the young officer. He could feel Crane's heart pounding beneath his fists, and it hadn't missed a beat or speeded up in the least. The man was cool.

"You will talk to me," he growled, shaking the slighter man. "You had time to get the plans, we know you got your contact and his family out of the city, so why didn't you at least take the plans before you destroyed the place?"

No response, except for a slow blink. The golden eyes seemed to be losing focus.

He shook the man again. After a moment he tossed the man back down on the bunk, little caring that his head slammed into the wall. Crane blinked at him again, and slid back down and resumed staring at the ceiling. When he moved there was a small red stain on the wall. Smith stood there, staring at Crane, breathing hard. This was getting nowhere. He went back and picked up his briefcase, then pounded on the door. The guard opened the door, and after allowing Smith to leave went in and picked up the chair. He saw the stain on the wall, and took a quick look at the prisoner, who seemed to be staring at the ceiling. The guard glanced after the Admiral, and at the wall again. He wasn't sure if he should log this or not. He went out of the room and locked up.

The Admiral was long gone. The guard went back to a small office in the rear of the brig, and leaned down to whisper in the ear of the Master Chief who sat there behind a desk. After he related what he had seen, the Master Chief nodded, and sent him off to have dinner. He was told to forget about it. Only too happy to do so, he went off to the mess hall. After he went out the Master Chief picked up the phone and dialed a number. He spoke into the phone for several minutes, and then hung up. It shouldn't be long.

In fact it was less than 20 minutes later that Admiral Jiggs Stark himself stomped into the Master Chief's office. After several minutes of conversation, the Chief himself walked the Admiral back to the cell, and opened the door. The Master Chief moved the chair back into the room, and then went out. Stark stood for a moment, staring at the red spot on the wall, then turned to find the golden eyes of Lee Crane watching him. They stared at each other for a moment, then Stark sat down.

"I have a few messages for you from Harry. He can't come yet, what with your doctor threatening to tie him to the bed, and Smith's being an asshole about visitation. He wants you to give him a chance to talk to you, before you have your lawyer plead guilty. The hearing is tomorrow, Smith is pushing it hard."

Crane sighed, and turned his head back toward the ceiling. He lay there for a few moments, and then looked back at Stark. "He's really going to be ok?"

"Yes, if your doctor has anything to say about it. Harry would be here himself if he could, I'm sure you know that." Stark looked at him consideringly. He had thought about this since leaving Harry and the others at the hospital. There had to be something they were missing, and it had hit him as he was reviewing what had been said in the hospital room. He suspected the only way he would find out was to ask. The question was, would Crane answer? The man looked paler than he had been before, and there was something not quite right about him, but Stark plowed ahead.

"What did Harry tell them, under the influence of the drugs, did he spill the beans about the mission? Is that what you are trying to cover up? He won't be held responsible for that, you know. Everyone has a breaking point, especially under such circumstances. It's not something that will reflect badly on him. I know my opinion won't change, and neither will anyone else's, no one who matters."

For a long time, Stark thought that Crane was going to just lay there and stare at him in silence, then he saw something move in the younger man's eyes. He couldn't identify it. Then slowly Crane sat up. He slid back so that he could lean against the wall, and Stark noticed he was very careful about leaning his head back on the wall. Crane sighed again. Then quietly he began to speak.

"The Admiral had ordered me to leave him there, to get the plans and just go, before his contact could turn me in too. I couldn't do that. So you see the charges are right. I disobeyed a direct order from my superior officer. It was no use arguing with him, I could see that, so I got out of the duct, and…" He paused, frowning. He seemed to going to say something, but then shook his head. He continued.

"And then I went back to the house of my contact, Raj. He was there with his family, eating dinner. I took him aside and told him what had happened. He wanted to send his family away and help me get the Admiral out, regardless of the risk. Nuri, the Admiral's contact, only knew him by sight, not by name, so he was pretty sure he could go unnoticed as long as he was careful. I had a plan, and I needed his help. I gave him all the money that I had, and he sent his family to a safe place to wait for him." Crane's face was thoughtful, and then he frowned.

"They had so little, they packed almost everything in ten minutes. They were risking their lives, and they could pack everything they owned of any worth in that short of a time. Raj had said he was doing this for his children so they didn't have to live in a world of fear and hate, but there should have been more for them. They had to leave their home because of me, and the best I could do was give them money. I wanted to do more, but all I could do was put the only breadwinner they had at more risk." He shook his head.

"Raj and I went back to the facility. I was on the cleaning crew, and Raj acted as a runner for the scientists, so we had easy access. We split up and I went back down to the lower levels. I got back in the ducting and went back to the Admiral's cell, but he was gone already. I did some recon and found out where they had taken him. They had him strapped down to a table and were pumping that stuff into his system. Varga and his head goon were taking turns yelling questions at him. There were about five guards in the room with them so I couldn't exactly rush them. Raj was working on a diversion, but it was going to take awhile, probably about an hour. The drugs started working pretty quick. Varga had created this cocktail of drugs that broke down any resistance. Training wouldn't have helped. He was proud of it, telling his goons about it as Har... the Admiral was laying there."

Crane broke off, and stared down at his feet for a moment. Then he looked up at Stark. "You say you won't feel any different about him, that no one would blame him?" Stark nodded. Crane stared at him for a while. Then looked back down. When he spoke it was very low, almost too low for Stark to hear. "What about how he feels about himself?"

"What? How Harry feels?"

Crane nodded, and looked back up. "Yes, what about that. What if…" he broke off, looking away again. This was much harder than he thought it would be. He had chosen to speak to Stark, because he had begun to doubt his choice. He needed someone who wasn't involved, someone who knew Nelson, to give him an opinion. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to look Nelson in the eye, and not tell him everything if he didn't get this straight in his head. He wasn't afraid of facing the charges, hell he had just confessed to disobedience, but he didn't want to hurt Nelson. And to top it all off, his head hurt so very badly.

"What did he say, son? What is it you're protecting him from?"

"He… He couldn't help it. They just kept pressing him as the drugs started working. He tried to fight it. At first they didn't get anything. Then the drugs got to him. He started with the mission, told them the plans that had been made… and about me. They asked him to describe me, and tell them what he knew about my contact. He told them about talking to me earlier, about ordering me to get the plans and go. Varga knew the plans were still in his safe so he figured I was still around. He sent some of the goons out to check the ducts on the main level near the offices. I guess he didn't think I'd be down there with them. I guess he expected me to abandon the Admiral and get on with the mission. There were still too many of them for me to take a chance..." Crane paused again. Clearing his throat, and sniffing. His eyes were unfocused, and Stark suspected he was watching the interrogation all over again.

"He kept at the Admiral, asking him more. What his real name was, where he was from. The Admiral told him everything. His name, about the Institute, my name, then he started on the _Seaview_. Varga knew who he was. He started asking him about codes and passwords. His man was taking everything down on tape. They were plotting about how they could use the information, sell it to the highest bidder. About how they could use him to make more weapons, better weapons to kill more people. They had gotten wind of some of the projects our government was working on, and they were grilling him about what he knew."

Crane's eyes came up and met Stark's, "You know the things he's involved in, the projects he's consulting on. He was telling them everything, almost eagerly. That's part of the damn side effect of the drug. It does something to your brain. It makes you think that you're safe, that it's ok to talk. You don't even seem to know that it's wrong. He was happy to help them out. Towards the end he was offering them information that they hadn't even asked for. It's like the drug opens up the brain and lets everything inside drain out. Knowledge, feelings, hopes, dreams…" He stopped, sniffing again. Stark wondered just what else he had heard in that interrogation room. Then he found himself speared by the suddenly sharp golden gaze.

"You tell me, Sir. What would you have done?" he said fiercely. "You remember how bad he felt when he was brainwashed. And then he didn't give up any information. How do you think he'd feel to know that he gave them everything he knew, actively offered them information? The fact that he couldn't help it won't matter to him. He'll feel that he should have been able to resist. He felt guilty for months after the brainwashing. He had a hard time facing his friends and employees. He felt awkward with them after how he had acted, even if he couldn't help himself. How's he going to feel now?" The ferocity seemed to fade, leaving the young man seemingly exhausted. He slumped back down on the bunk.

Stark considered for a moment. "I'm not sure how he'll feel about it. He'll be upset, I'm sure. But you may be underestimating him. That's never a good thing with Harry. Sure he's going to feel bad that he gave up the mission, and the other information, he'll be especially upset that he gave you up. But he'll get over it in time. He's certainly not going to appreciate you sacrificing yourself for him, for his pride. He wouldn't want that." Stark paused, wondering how far he could go with Crane, but then decided to push on. The younger man seemed inclined to speak with him it seemed, and he was going to take advantage of it. "Harry values you highly. I don't think it would be going too far to say that he looks upon you as a friend and more…" there was something in Crane's face that made him stop.

"What is it son, what else happened?"

Crane studied his feet for a few minutes more, and then settled his head gently back against the wall. "It took Raj so long to get the diversion going because he was getting some of his people out of the facility. He knew who was uninvolved, just there to work and feed their families, and who was really working with these guys. He couldn't just tell them to leave, someone would have noticed. He got them out then he set fire to one of the labs. He couldn't read, so he didn't know that the lab he was in had oxygen tanks stored in it. It took out part of that wing when it let go, and the rest of the facility was on fire. When it blew, Varga and his goons were surprised to say the least. He took all but his right hand man and went to see what was going on. The remaining man went back to questioning Har... the Admiral…"

Stark broke in. "Just call him Harry, son. I don't care about protocol right now, and I don't think you were worrying about it then."

A small smile was his reward. "Harry was pretty out of it. As the drug progresses it makes the mind more confused, and the person tends to drift around. It takes some serious prodding to get them to stay on one theme. The goon was frustrated, and he hit Harry several times. I climbed out of the vent, and came up behind him. I… wasn't very gentle knocking him out. I was afraid that the rest would come back, so I got Harry out of the straps and tried to get him to walk. He was really unsteady, and I could tell he wasn't going to be able to move fast."

"I got him over my shoulder and started out with him. There was a lot of confusion, so no one noticed me. They just thought I was helping out an injured person. The main problem was keeping Harry from talking. He was speaking English, and going on about all kinds of things. I was afraid he'd end up back around to the mission. Short of stopping to gag him, I didn't have too many options though. We had almost made it out when something hit us from behind. Harry took the brunt of it, I guess that's where the bruise on his shoulder came from, but it drove me to my knees. I dropped Harry, and got out from under him, and there was Varga. He had a two by four or something and was swinging for my head. I lost my gun when I went down, so I was unarmed. He must have seen us going and decided to take steps on his own. He was a big guy, not too old and he was trying to take my head off with that board. Nobody was around. Everyone had fled the fire. We fought for a while, he got in some blows and so did I. I was afraid his goons were going to show up, and so I… I did what I had to do."

Stark realized that Crane was saying he had broken Varga's neck in order to escape. That made it self-preservation. No Article 32 judge was going to prosecute him for that. That was one charge down. He knew that Crane, like Nelson, didn't like to kill. He was also aware that the slim captain was exceedingly well trained in the art of self-defense, and the many ways to kill a man with his bare hands. That he had done so to a man like Varga was not a bad thing in Stark's book. War meant that people died, and they were at war with terrorists like the scientist. Harry would understand that, too.

Crane was continuing with his story. "We got out of there, and met Raj about a mile away from the facility, away from the town. Things were pretty confused so I didn't have any trouble getting there. He had suspected that we were going to need some form of transport, and he did the best he could. It was a pushcart, one of those awkward looking things with two wheels and two poles meant to be pushed by one or two people. He had put some hay in it, and gotten us what supplies he could. He had my backpack, and I knew the route back so we were set."

"Raj left to meet up with his family. He told me before he left that he had 'taken care' of Nuri, so I suppose that he killed him, or had him killed. He has film of the plans by the way." Stark smiled as he realized that Crane had just explained that pause after he had left Harry in the cell

"I gave them to him there. I wasn't sure I could make it with Harry, and Raj was sure that he and his family would be ok. If I, or someone else with the password, don't meet him on the 25th in Kelret, in the north of Turkmenistan, he'll try to contact someone at one of the bases there."

"I got Harry settled in the cart, and he seemed to be drifting in and out. I moved south as quickly as I could. I wanted to put as much room between the facility and us as possible." He waved a hand. "You don't want to hear the details I'm sure, suffice to say it was a long, cold trip. Harry was out of it for the most part, he would partly wake up sometimes, usually when I stopped and talked to him…"

Stark had noticed that Crane's voice was starting to slur, and his eyes were looking strange, one pupil seemed to be more dilated than the other. Stark had seen enough head wounds in his time to recognize a concussion when he saw one. He started up from the chair as Crane started sliding to the side. He eased the young man down onto the pillow, and gently touched the back of his head. There was a large goose egg there. A gash across the bump was seeping blood into the dark hair.

Stark swore violently. Just wait until he got a hold of Smith. Then an evil grin passed across his face. Just wait until _Harry_ got a hold of Smith. He went to the door and pounded. The Master Chief opened the door, and looked in.

"Get an ambulance down here now. This man needs to be in the infirmary."

The Master Chief started to speak, but Stark held up a hand, stopping him before he could start. "I know he's a prisoner, etc. It's under _my_ authority. Send a guard along with him to the infirmary. I'll stay here until the ambulance arrives and go with him." The Master Chief nodded and went for the phone. Stark moved the chair closer to the bunk, and sat down. He looked at the unconscious man.

When had they started giving submarines to babies he wondered. This was a man who commanded the most powerful submarine on the planet, and he looked about 10 years old. Crane was actually about the same age as his own boys, and Stark felt a surge of fatherly compassion for the younger man. He reached out a hand and put it on Crane's forehead. He seemed to be cool, but it was hard to tell. He brushed a lock of dark hair back, and withdrew his hand. He then reached out again, and dropped his hand on the arm closest to him. Maybe somewhere in his unconscious mind Crane would feel it and know that someone was there, that he wasn't alone.

**Chapter 13**-

Nelson was tired of lying around. Jamieson had come and gone throughout the day as had Morton and Stark. He had slept some, and had enjoyed the dinner that Morton had brought from the Officer's Mess with Jaime's approval. He was now watching a news program and waiting for his call from the President. He had tried several more times to get through, but even his forceful blustering hadn't been enough to get a moment. He had resigned himself to the wait. He had had several other flashes of memories throughout the afternoon, and was anxious to discuss them with Lee.

He looked away from the TV as Morton came back into the room. He had been down the hall raiding a vending machine for several candy bars. Nelson smiled, and wondered how the man kept from putting on weight. He had never seen anyone eat as much as Morton did. He turned his attention back to the screen as Chip took the chair he had occupied most of the afternoon.

Morton had gone out when Nelson was sleeping, but felt it was important that he be there for the Admiral since Lee couldn't be. He wanted to see his friend badly, and was still peeved at Smith for taking Jaime off Lee's case. It had been a vindictive move on the Admiral's part, simply because he could. He opened one of the candy bars, and took a bite. As he was chewing Jamieson came into the room.

"Don't you ever stop eating? I'm going to have them check you for a tapeworm during your next physical," the doctor quipped at Morton, who simply smiled back at him and patted his flat stomach. Jamie switched his attention to Nelson, and waved the file he was holding. Your blood test is clear. All of the chemicals are out of your system. I think you can be released tomorrow."

"It'll be nice to get out of here. Now if only the politicians would cooperate so that I can see Lee. Did you find out who took over his case?" Jamieson had told the others that he was going to find out who was to see Crane, and brief him on the Captain's little physician phobia.

"Not yet. As far as I can tell no one has been assigned. With your permission I'll wait until1800 and if no one is assigned I'll go over and try to get in myself." He sat down in the second chair, prepared to wait there with the others.

Nelson glanced at the clock. It was 1730. Jiggs had left to go to the brig over an hour ago, and hadn't reported back as he said he would. Stark would be sure that Jamieson could get in if he was there. "Sounds good Jaime. We're still waiting on the call from the White House. Damn politicians..." he cut off as the phone rang.

Morton leaped up and answered it. He listened for several moments, his face getting paler as he listened. "Yes Sir. I'll have him meet the ambulance in the emergency room," he finally said and put the phone down. He stood for a moment staring at the instrument, unmoving except for his breathing, which seemed to get heavier as he stood. The other two men watched him, and Nelson was about to speak, when suddenly Chip picked up the phone yanking the wire from the wall. He violently threw the instrument into the corner where it shattered into several pieces. He stood there breathing heavily as if he had run a race, and then turned blazing blue eyes on the other two in the room.

"That was Admiral Stark. He was calling from the brig. After he left here he stopped at his office. He got a call from the Master Chief in charge at the brig who told him that Admiral Smith," Chip practically spit out the name, "had been there, and that they thought that the prisoner was injured when the Admiral left. Stark went down there, and he said there was blood on the wall. He was talking to Lee when he just passed out. They've got an ambulance there now, and he wants Jaime to meet it down at the emergency room."

Jamieson was on his feet and out the door immediately. As the door closed behind him, Nelson threw off the covers and swung his legs over the side. "Chip, get me that robe," he said, sliding onto his feet. There was a brief moment of dizziness as his body got used to standing upright after so long, but then he steadied down. Morton, without protesting, brought the robe and held it while he slipped into it. After tying the belt, and slipping on the thin slippers that Chip had found in the closet they headed out of the room. At the door they were met by an older nurse with a wheel chair.

"Doctor Jamieson said I should wait out here for you and tell you that if he catches you down there without this chair he'll make sure you regret it," she said with an evil smile.

Nelson attempted a glare, but it bounced right off the woman, who stood stolidly before them. Chip was trying to figure out if he could take her while the Admiral made a break for the elevator when Nelson sighed and sat down in the chair. He motioned the woman away and said that Morton would do the pushing. She sniffed, and went off down the corridor, muttering about men.

Morton leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. "I'm glad you gave in, Sir. I think she could have taken us both with one hand."

"That Battle axe? I'm sure you're right Chip. Let's get going. That ambulance will be here soon."

They went down in the elevator to the emergency room. As Pearl was a large base, with a lot of families and troops, the emergency room was busy. They cruised down the long corridor, trying to stay out of the way of hurrying medical personnel and trying to locate Jamieson. They were making their second pass, when a door down the corridor opened and Jamieson poked his head out, looking both ways down the hall. When he spotted them he gestured for them to enter the room, and held the door.

Morton wheeled the Admiral in, and stopped when Jamieson indicated that they should wait there. There was another doctor in the room, looking at some x-rays on a lighted panel, Jamie joined him and they conferred quietly for several minutes. Morton and Nelson weren't looking at them, both were looking at the still form on the table.

Lee Crane had been stripped of his prison jumpsuit, and lay on the table covered by a blanket up to mid waist. It was low enough to reveal the yellowing bruises on the left side of his rib cage, and an ugly collection of the same on his left arm. It look as if he had been hit with some long, wide, object on the left side. His head was turned away from them, so they could see the area on the back of his head that had been shaved and cleaned. A large lump was obvious, and the gash that went across it had been sutured closed with a neat row of stitches.

Nelson felt his blood pressure rising as he looked at his friend lying there so unnaturally still. He pounded one hand gently on the arm of the wheel chair. He wished he had something to throw as Chip had done. What the hell had Smith been thinking? Charging Lee with disobedience and treason had been bad enough, but it was at least skating the edges of being within regulations, or at least as close to it as ONI usually got. To physically hurt an operative, no matter how uncooperative, was unconscionable.

He rolled his chair forward silently, stopping at the edge of the bed. The nurse who had been standing by on the other side smiled at him shyly, and glanced at the doctors. Nelson ignored the two men, who were still deep in conversation, and put out a hand to touch Lee's arm.

"I'm here lad. Everything is going to be all righ," he said, little knowing that his voice penetrated the darkness that Lee Crane had found himself in, and suddenly the young Commander was back in the desert, pushing the cart up a rutted road leading into the mountains that separated Turkmenistan from Afghanistan. He was really tired of being here, it seemed he would never be free of it.

**Chapter 14**-

Crane leaned his weight into the poles of the cart, trying to force it up the hill faster. It was a well-balanced cart, for all its crudity, and he had been able to make good time across the flatlands to the North. For the last hour he had been aware of the road sloping upward, and now it was making the going more difficult. It was just over five hours since they had left the facility, and he had stopped only briefly a few hours earlier to take a drink of water and to dribble what he could between Nelson's lips. The older man had been muttering on and off to himself as they had moved through the night. Crane was grateful for the full moon and the cold but clear sky that allowed him enough light to keep moving even after the setting of the winter sun.

He had made sure that Nelson was covered with a blanket from his backpack, and some of the hay, and that seemed to have created a warm nest in the wagon for him. He wasn't uncomfortable, but then neither was he conscious. Evidently the drugs were effective for a long time, and Crane had no way to know when, or even if they would wear off. He knew that some of the 'truth serum' drugs available caused irreparable damage. He could only hope that Varga had not formulated his that way. The idea that Nelson may never again be that man that Crane knew and, yes he would admit it to himself, loved, was horrifying. Not that it would change anything as far a Crane was concerned, but the thought made him sick.

As he forced the cart around a corner he saw an overhang that would offer some protection from the incessant cold wind that blew across this land. He pushed the cart into the space, and climbed up beside Nelson in the hay. He was sweaty from pushing the cart, and he was not really feeling very cold, but he knew that the longer they stopped the more he would feel it. He needed to get some water and maybe see if the energy bars he had put in the backpack were still there. He dug one out, and bit off a piece. Gnawing at the flavorless chunk he looked around at the silvery landscape. It was near midnight, and he estimated that he would be able to get most of the way up to the pass before the moon set for the night leaving him in the deep, true darkness with only the stars to give pale luminescence to the surroundings. He would have to stop then, and sleep until the sun rose.

He was consumed with a need to get Nelson to a doctor, to get him some help. Praying that it was not already too late. He knew it was going to take him several days to travel the miles back to where he had started. There would be, could be, no friendly hitchhiking now. How would he explain a comatose companion? He was on his own, unless he was very, very lucky and ran into a special forces unit. But that seemed unlikely since as far as he knew there were no targets in this area.

As he chewed the energy bar, Nelson began tossing his head from side to side, and muttering. Crane reached out a hand and wrapped it around Nelson's hand, trying to let the man know he was there. The muttering stopped, and he was surprised to see Nelson's eyes open, and fasten on him in the moonlight. They blinked at each other for several moments, and then a huge smile grew on Nelson's face.

"Lee, lad you're here! I've been waiting for you!" he said, and Crane realized he wasn't really cognizant of their surroundings. "I'm glad you came. It wouldn't be the same without you being here." Nelson paused, and frowned. "How did you know we were launching today? I thought you were at sea?"

It took Crane a moment to realize that Nelson was back in the past. Thinking this was the day the _Seaview_ had been launched. He had been invited, but had been on duty at sea. Since becoming her Captain he had always regretted that he had not been able to be there when she was launched. He swallowed the energy bar, and after clearing his throat, spoke to the lost man beside him.

"I'm glad I could come. I wouldn't have missed it for the world. You know how much the _Seaview_ means to me." It couldn't hurt to let Nelson think he was there. At least it was a happy memory.

"I built her for you lad. She was always meant to be yours, you're part of her. I could never ask for a better Captain. Or a better son."

Crane sat in the moonlight, unsure how to react. He knew that Nelson was still under the influence of the drugs, and it would be a terrible breach of his privacy to encourage him to keep talking, but he wasn't sure what to do, even as he sat thinking Nelson seemed to be becoming agitated.

"Lee? Lee, are you there? Lee!"

"I'm here Admiral. It's ok," he said, returning his hand, which he had removed, to the older man's grip. Nelson grasped it like a life preserver. He smiled again.

"Good. I'm always happier when you're here. I miss you when you're gone on one of your missions. I understand why you go, but I worry you know." He laughed, and the sound tore at Crane. He shouldn't be hearing this, if Harry had wanted him to know how he felt then Harry would have spoken before. This was private, deeply so. Nelson was continuing, oblivious of the conflicted feelings in his audience.

"You'll think it's silly I know. But it's a father's prerogative to worry about his child even after he's grown up. You know that's how I think of you, as my son. I only wish I had met you sooner. I missed the first 17 years of your life. It could have been so much happier for both of us if only I had found you sooner." His voice trailed off on that regretful statement and Nelson returned to the drug induced unconsciousness, leaving Crane to blink rapidly to clear the tears that formed in his eyes.

He closed them for a moment, letting himself think how it would have been growing up with Harry. Having someone who cared, who enjoyed the things you did, who held the same beliefs. He shook it off, and reached to pull the blanket up closer around Nelson's shoulders. It was colder here in the mountains, and it would be colder still once they got out onto the high flat desert and into the full force of the wind. He wished he had other blankets, warmer ones. He pushed the hay around so that it would provide as much warmth as it could. He was getting ready to jump down and resume their journey when he heard the sound of someone walking on the path, several some ones in fact.

He jumped down to the ground, being as quiet as he could. He drew his pistol, holding it down against his leg, and positioned himself between the oncoming people and the cart. He hoped this wasn't going to get nasty. As he stood there three people came into sight, two men and a woman. That might be a good sign, since few women here fought.

The three people stopped when they saw him, obviously surprised. They were carrying bundles of what Crane assumed were trade goods, no doubt headed for the markets in Turkmenistan. One of the men glanced at the others, and lowered the bundle that he carried. The others did the same. The first man spoke.

"We mean no harm. We are weavers, on our way to the markets. We would share your windbreak for a moment if that is all right?"

Crane nodded, and surreptitiously moved the pistol behind his back and slid it into his waistband. The three people moved forward, with their bundles, and sat down in the lee of the rocks that sheltered the cart.

Crane saw them glance at the still form in the wagon, and was glad that Nelson was in one of his quiet modes. He knew he should move on, but he was tired, and need to finish his energy bar. He moved to sit on the end of the cart and picked up the bar from where he had dropped it. He noticed that the others were sharing some bread amongst themselves. He could see one of their bundles nearby, and was interested to see what looked to be the edge of a blanket, and he had an idea.

"You say you are going to market. Would you trade with me now? I have need of a warm blanket or two."

The first man finished his bread and came to stand in front of Crane. His eyes passed over Nelson in the cart.

"That one is ill?"

Crane nodded, "My… father. He is very ill, and I am taking him home so that my mother can take care of him. We had business in Ashqabad, but he was taken ill yesterday and wanted to go home. I have only the one blanket, and it is cold. I will trade you something for the blanket, I have no money."

"What do you have to trade?"

Crane shrugged. "Perhaps it would be better to ask what you would want for two blankets. I have few things to trade, but I have a need."

The man looked at Crane and at the backpack that sat in the hay. He didn't seem all that eager, but then Crane noticed that his eyes had gone to Crane's feet. His boots were old looking, but were in good shape. The other man was wearing what amounted to softened skins bound to the feet with leather bands favored by the natives in the winter. They were warm enough, but they weren't like a boot.

Crane knew that it was important to have good shoes, but he did need those blankets. Nelson needed to be kept warm, and he would need something for himself when they stopped for the night. It wasn't like they were going to run into a Wal-Mart up here, so he had few choices. He doubted if any one thing he had in the backpack would be of interest, that being mostly food and water which he needed for the journey, a few maps, which would be redundant to locals, and some other clothes, so that left his boots as a bargaining chip.

After some negotiations the other man agreed to switch footwear, and accept three energy bars as trade for the blankets. The blankets were large and made of a fine, soft, wool, treated, the man said, using an old family method that would keep them from itching, shrinking, or losing their color. They were woven in the distinctive pattern of the Northern area they were from, all in all not a bad trade.

The trade was completed, and Crane piled the two new blankets on top of the thin blanket that already covered Nelson. He would not have to worry about him being cold now. He had donned the other man's footwear, and after bidding farewell to the three people he resumed his trek up the trail. The incline increased dramatically, and it was difficult going. He had to pause several times when Nelson became agitated, and tossed and turned in the hay, throwing off the blankets. The trail had been made for these carts though and was switch-backed to provide some ease of use rather than going straight up the side of the mountain, for which Crane was grateful by the time they reached the pass several hours later. The moon was nearing the end of its nightly journey, and he knew he had only a short time before it was completely gone. He needed to find a place to stop, to rest for a while. It had been a damnably long day.

A short way down the south side of the pass he found another overhang that offered some protection from the wind. It was located about 25 yards off the main path, and he could hope that in the darkness between moonset and sunrise that any passing people would not see the cart.

He maneuvered the cart into place, and climbed up once again into the hay filled area. He was bone tired, and his feet were already protesting the change of footwear. He had another thirty miles as the crow flies before he got to Meymaneh. Pushing the cart he would have to take a different route that would make it closer to forty. He had made ten miles tonight, mostly fueled by the adrenaline left over from the rescue and fight. It was not going to be that easy from now on. He would have to be cautious about when he moved.

He was planning on moving for a few hours in the early morning, and then stopping again once the sun was up until moonrise. Then he would go again. He estimated it would take somewhere around three or four days, depending on how far he could get each day. Ten miles should not be out of the question. It would be a matter of how much activity the local people were up to. He really didn't want to run into a group of Al Queda or even just one of the roving bands of bandits that ruled this forbidding land.

Nelson moaned, drawing Crane's attention back to the present. He gently placed a hand on Nelson's forehead, and was glad that he seemed to not have a fever. Another groan, and the eyes were once again open and looking at Crane.

"Lee. Is that you?" he asked, puzzlement in his voice.

For a moment Crane thought he was coherent for the first time since he had been injected with whatever it was Varga had given him, but then the Admiral continued.

"I'm sorry we couldn't wait for you. Phillips took your place. They wanted someone older, someone more experienced. I let them talk me into it, even though I had thought of you being there almost since her keel was laid. You should have seen her take to the water. It was like… nothing I had ever seen. It was right, it was how it was meant to be, but… _you_ weren't there. Why weren't you there!" The last was said almost angrily, and Crane was sure the blue eyes were blazing with the familiar ire.

"Admiral, I…"

"No, no excuses! Don't you know how I count on you to be there? How I can do what I need to do because I know you are there? It doesn't mean anything atall if you don't stay, if you aren't there. I built it all, but there was no one to give it to, no one to take it after I 'm gone. But then you were there, and you were the one. But… you keep going, you don't stay, and it'll be for nothing… for nothing."

Crane put his hand on Nelson's chest, and patted him through the blankets. He was once again deeply embarrassed to be the unwilling witness to the Admiral's thoughts and feeling, but he also, as before, felt a warmth in his chest to hear the words he had always craved. But, how to deal with this? Nelson seemed to be moving back and forth in his mind to different times and places, random events were becoming mixed. How could he offer comfort when he couldn't even reach Nelson.

Nelson had settled down, but was muttering to himself. Crane drank some more water, and managed to get Nelson to take some too, though not as much as he wanted. Finally the long day began to catch up to him. He felt like he had been run over a few times by something with a lot of wheels. He hesitated for a moment, then lay down beside Nelson, and moved one of the blankets so that they shared it. This way they would be able to share body heat, and any movement by Nelson would wake Crane before he could try to leave the cart. The idea that Nelson couldn't move was something that Crane refused to consider.

He snuggled down into the hay, his body grateful for the growing warmth. He tried to find a comfortable position, and ended up on his back looking at the stars. They were as bright here as they were at sea. He had always loved being up on the bridge when they surfaced at night, just so he could see the sweep of stars without the interference of lights from the cities. There were so many, and the Milky Way, the 'warriors road' of the American Indians, was a belt of densely packed stars spanning the sky. He often shared that quiet time staring at the stars with the man that lay beside him now, and it broke his heart to think that he may never have that quiet shared enjoyment again.

Suddenly he felt a hand grasp his arm, and Nelson's voice murmuring, "I'm here lad, everything is going to be all right." With that hopeful pronouncement ringing in his ears, he surrendered himself to the darkness.

**Chapter 15**-

Nelson looked up as Jaime and the other doctor broke from their conference over the x-rays, and moved back to the table. Nelson didn't remove his hand from Lee's arm.

"There's no sign of a skull fracture. He has a moderate concussion, and he's still showing signs of exhaustion. We're going to send him for a CAT scan to verify that there is no damage that we're not seeing on the x-rays. But it'll be a while until it's free. We're going to admit him to the prison ward for observation after the test." Jameson said, and then hesitated "You can stay here with him before the test. Once he's admitted to the ward there will be no visitors."

"Damn it Jamie, those charges are bunch of bull…" Morton began only to be overridden by Nelson.

"Calm down Chip. We'll have the whole thing taken care of before it comes to that, even if I have to go to wherever that conference is myself and speak to the President in person. I assume you have the FS1 here."

Before Chip could answer Stark pushed his way into the room, and waved at Morton. "Never mind Morton, and forget the FS1 Harry. I pulled a few strings, told a few white lies, and got through to the President. I told him what part of the story that we know, and what happened with Smith and Crane. He says that any charges that Smith has brought will be dropped immediately, and a full investigation of Smith's methods will be undertaken ASAP. Your boy's a free man Harry." Stark grinned at his friend, and received a grateful smile in return.

"Thanks Jiggs, I owe you one."

"I know how you can pay me back Harry." Stark said. When Nelson raised an inquisitive eyebrow he continued, "Let _me_ take care of Smith. The sneaky rat bastard came on to my base and took over. He needs to know that's not going to happen again." He smiled an evil smile.

"I'll happily leave him to you. You were always the most vindictive one anyways," Nelson quipped.

"Damn bet I was. The rest of you were all too smart, too athletic, or too spit 'n polish. The only thing I had going for me was mean." Stark laughed. He nodded to Crane. "How's he doing?"

"Jamie says he's going to be all right. He's got a concussion, and he's still exhausted. Now at least he won't have to wake up in a cell."

"I've got a few calls to make. I'll come by later, and maybe you can tell me the rest of the story that _he_ didn't tell me."

"Wait a minute Jiggs! Lee told you what happened? You can't just drop that and run. Tell us what he said."

Stark threw a quick glance at the still form on the table, and shook his head reluctantly. "I can't do that Harry. What he told me was told in confidence, and while we haven't always seen eye-to-eye about how a submarine should be ran, I won't betray that confidence. What he wants you to know he'll tell you. As to the rest, I'm satisfied that what happened there was beyond anyone's control, and while it's not been retrieved yet, the information _was_ collected. At least two good men didn't die there. As far as I'm concerned that's it, and it's what will be in my report."

Nelson looked at him consideringly for a moment, then nodded. "All right Jiggs. We'll see you later."

Stark left the room, and Nelson exchanged a glance with Morton, both men wondering what Crane had told Stark. He turned back to the exam table, and looked at Crane. Nelson had not removed his hand from the younger man's arm, and he rubbed it back and forth, more to comfort himself then to comfort Lee. The young Commander was going to be ok, and the charges had been dropped. The matter of disobeying a direct order would be handled between them, it wasn't the first time it had happened, and knowing his Captain it wouldn't be the last time.

Jamieson had been conferring with his colleague again, and came to stand on the other side of the exam table. "The CAT scanner is available now, and we're going to take him in." he held up a hand to stop whatever Nelson was going to say. "You go back to your room, and you'll find that I've arranged for a second bed to be placed there. Once he's done with the tests, he'll be moved in there with you. Will that be satisfactory?"

Nelson grinned at him, the doctor knew him too well. "Thanks Jaime." He looked over his shoulder at Chip who was standing at the head of the exam table, his hand on Crane's bare shoulder. "It seems we're being kicked out, Chip. How about we stop by the cafeteria on the way back to the room. I feel like a hot chocolate before bed. I'm sure you'll be able to find something you'd like." He gave a pat to the arm he held, and Morton rolled him out of the room.

**Chapter 16**-

Crane found himself waking up again. The thing was, he didn't remember going to sleep. He had been talking to Stark, and then he was here, wherever here was. It didn't have the same 'feel' as the cell he had last been in. He wasn't on _Seaview_. He wasn't at home. The only way to tell was to open his eyes and look around, so he did. Since all he could see was a white ceiling, it was not informative. He heard a sound to his left, and turned his head to see another bed, a hospital bed.

The realization that he was in a hospital was quickly replaced by the realization of who was occupying that other bed. Harriman Nelson was in the other bed! Crane sat up, ignoring the pounding in his head, to get a better look. The room was dark, indicating to Crane that it was nighttime, and Nelson was asleep. It didn't seem to be a very comfortable sleep however. As the younger man watched, Nelson's head tossed back and forth. He was dreaming.

Crane looked down with distaste at the IV in his left hand. He knew better then to take it out. Jaime would have a fit, and he'd never get out of here. He maneuvered his legs off the bed, and grabbing the pole the IV hung from he stood up. He had to close his eyes as the room swung wildly around him, but after a moment he was able to open them again, and leaning on the rolling pole, moved to sit in a chair that was pulled up by Nelson's bedside.

Nelson's agitation had not waned. He muttered under his breath, and Crane realized that it was the sound that had awakened him minutes before. He was encourage to see that there was healthy color in Nelson's cheeks, and a robe tossed across the end of the bed indicated that he had been up and around earlier. The Admiral was healing. That was what was most important..

The young Commander reached out and put his hand on Nelson's, gently squeezing the square, strong hand. This had helped before, in the days in Afghanistan. It had taken longer than he thought it would to get to Meymaneh. He had had to play a game of hide and seek with a group of bandits, and that had cost him time. Had he been alone, he could have easily avoided them, but a pushcart was not exactly easy to hide. One whole day had been spent in a small cave in the side of a dry creek bed, watching and listening for anyone approaching. His pistol had never been far from his hand as he comforted the often-distressed Nelson, who had never quite made it to consciousness. His moments of lucidity had come further and further apart, until in the last day and a half, he had lain as if dead, obviously in a coma. Crane had stopped often to check that he still breathed, and his heart still beat. He had never been so happy to see a city as when they had crested a small rise, and the rough mud buildings of the outskirts of Meymaneh had greeted his weary eyes.

Now in the darkness of this hospital room, so far away from that place, his touch once again seemed to bring comfort. The muttering stopped, and the tossing slowed. Crane sat back in the chair, carefully arranging his IV so it wasn't twisted or bent. No need to incur the wrath of Jaime. He kept his hold on Nelson's hand as he closed his eyes, prepared to slip back into sleep, now that Nelson was soothed. Perhaps they both could get some healing sleep now.

Then he felt a stirring, and opened his eyes to find himself the focus of the bright blue eyes of Nelson. He stared back for a long moment, and then smiled. He couldn't help it. He was so happy to see the man before him, alert and aware, and _alive_. After an even longer moment, while all the time those piercing eyes looked into his soul, the smile was returned. He felt Nelson's hand turn under his, and they were clasping hands palm to palm. Nelson squeezed his hand.

"Thank you Lee," he said quietly, seriously.

"You were dreaming. I…" he started.

"No, not just for that, though I thank you for waking me up. I wasn't enjoying that at all, I think I would have preferred not to remember that. What I was thanking you for was for getting me out the first time, back there at the facility. I… remember parts of it now. Talking about things, not being able to stop myself from talking, not wanting to stop really." He stopped, and closed his eyes. "The things I told them, I could have caused so much damage." He words were filled with self-loathing.

"You couldn't help it. _Nothing_ you could have done would have kept the drugs from working. You were not to blame, _they_ were. If it's any comfort, nothing you said went beyond that room." Crane's voice was filled with conviction, and he kept his eyes locked with Nelson's. He had hoped that Nelson wouldn't remember. He had been prepared to flatly state that he didn't know what had gone on in that interrogation room, and as for things said on the trip away from there, well those things he would hold in his heart, but never would mention at all.

Nelson searched the golden eyes looking so forthrightly into his, seeing no doubts, no blame, in the clear depths. He saw only respect, and something else, something he had seen there before, something he remembered from the darkness of the last week. Something he valued above all the money that he had, all the things that he had accumulated, even above his greatest creation. And in that gaze he found the ability to forgive himself. He squeezed the slim, strong hand he held, and met the gaze with a renewed light in his eyes.

"Thank you."

He settled back against his pillow and closed his eyes. He felt Lee settle back in his chair, his hand never leaving their clasp. Nelson smiled as he drifted off to sleep, knowing that while he would probably continue to dream of that place, what had happened there could no longer hurt him. Eventually he would take Lee to his cabin, using that blackmail if necessary, and they would talk about what had happened there, in the facility, and after.

Nelson knew he had revealed things to Crane that neither man was comfortable having out in the open, and maybe they would never speak of those things outright. But that would not make them any less true. His Captain, his friend, his… son of the heart, was there _for_ him, and _with_ him, and that was enough for both of them.

**THE END**


End file.
